


Need A Volunteer?

by sweetdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Bullying, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Photographer Castiel, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 99,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetdean/pseuds/sweetdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Castiel is a sort of sarcastic, sort of snarky photography student unhappily enrolled in a Portrait Photography class at UCLA who gets stuck with Dean Winchester, a sort of hot, sort of annoying mechanic, as his volunteer model.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The rating of this might change, depending if I write more slash what I write. I hope you guys enjoy my little ramblings <3

His alarm screeched in his ears and Castiel jolted up, managing to get his feet tangled in the sheets, lose his balance, and tumble onto the hardwood floor of his bedroom all within the first thirty seconds of being awake. 

“Shit shit shit, not today” he grumbled, feeling around blindly on his bedside table in search of his glasses. He finally managed to shove them onto his face and, thankfully, the whole world came into focus. 

Including his alarm clock, which read 9:02am. 

“Fuck. Me.”

He tried to get up again, but his feet were still tangled and he just ended up flat on his stomach. After quite the epic battle he managed to crawl away from his bed, picking up whatever bits of clothing he could get his hands on. He grabbed his camera, threw on some shoes, slung his backpack over his shoulder and was out of the house in five minutes flat.

He resisted the urge to sprint to campus, but in all honesty the speed walking he was doing now probably looked more stupid than running. He mentally chided himself several times for choosing an apartment so far away from the photography classrooms, something he was sure Anna would love to goad him over. 

So, of course, his phone started to vibrate in his back pocket. 

“Speak of the devil,” he panted, glancing around before jogging across the street. 

_“He lives! Where were you this morning sleepyhead?”_

“I might have slept through my alarm.”

Anna’s light laughter floated through the phone, like a little bell ringing. 

_“Castiel when are you going to invest in a new clock? One that actually knows what time it is?”_

“I’ll put it on the list of things that I can’t afford to buy.”

_“Well hurry your little butt up, or everybody is gonna be taken.”_

Shit. He thought to himself. He needed a good one this time. Somebody hopefully a little bit easier to work with. 

“Did you get somebody good?"

He was still about a block away, but his lungs felt like they were on fire and he could feel his thin t-shirt sticking to him in the late autumn heat. He definitely needed to consider moving.

_“I have impeccable taste, of course I did. A delicious little doe-eyed freshman with just the prettiest olive skin. I couldn’t resist.”_

“Preying on the underclassmen again, I see.”

_“Your jealous side is showing, sweetie. Good luck, call me after.”_

He hung up just as he reached the front stairs, taking them two at a time. He flung open the door to the small classroom, only to come face to face with his grouchy-looking professor. 

“Mr. Novak,” she drawled, a pinched-looking grin spreading across her face. “How nice of you to finally join us. I do believe 8:30 is the start time for this course, is it not?”

“I know, I am so sorry, I overslept and—“

“Clearly five weeks is not enough time for you to learn your class schedule. Might I suggest writing it down, to prevent future issues?”

Castiel swallowed his retort, her condescending tone making his cheeks burn. 

“Of course, Professor. Are there any—“

“I’m afraid all of the volunteers have been accounted for. You’ll have to seek one out on your own time.”

She sniffed disdainfully at him, brushing past him to walk down the hallway towards her office. Her high heels clicked with each step, and Castiel had to resist the urge to flinch. 

_Shit._ He thought, for about the billionth time that day. Picking a model out of a group of volunteers was hard enough for him. Where in the hell was he supposed to find somebody on his own? 

“Mr. Novak?” she called from down the hallway, her voice echoing against the cold tile and decorated walls. She paused in the middle of the hallway, barely glancing backwards in his direction. “I realize this may not be your favorite, but this is a portraiture course. I expect excellence.”

He didn’t even have a chance to respond before she took off down the hallway. 

Castiel walked through the doorway into the small room, the lights turned off and only a small stream of morning sun shining in through the microscopic window. He sat down on the ground and dropped his head into his hands, not wanting to bother with the crappy desks. 

Sitting there in the dark feeling bad for himself seemed, of course, like the only logical solution. 

“Yo, skinny dude,” a deep voice called from behind him, making him almost jump out of his skin. “This photo 365?”

“Jesus you scared the shit out of me,” he mumbled, sliding his hands under his glasses to rub his eyes. 

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Castiel said a little bit louder, shaking his head and placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “This was Photography 385, if that’s what you meant. What are you looking for?”

He twisted his torso to get a look at the stranger, guessing from his voice that he probably looked something like Popeye if he was a cowboy instead of a sailor. 

He was very wrong. 

The guy was definitely taller than him by a few inches, his build muscled but not bulky. His skin was covered in light freckles, and Castiel couldn’t help but contemplate which sort of lighting would bring them out the best. His light brown hair was shorter on the sides and a tad longer on the top, sticking up slightly enough that it might’ve been accidental. 

“The portrait class, I’m a volunteer?”

“That class started at 8:30.”

The guy grinned, and Castiel was 99.99% sure that he was going to pass out. 

“Guess I’m kinda late then.”

He strolled over until he was standing in front of Castiel, his heavy boots pounding with each step. Castiel stared up at him as he walked, watching the muscles in his shoulders stretch and move under his shirt. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his bent knees and bouncing just slightly on the balls of his feet. 

“Dean Winchester.”

He extended a hand, and it took Castiel a couple of seconds to realize that he was expected to do the same. Up close he could see that the guy—Dean—had even more freckles on his face, scattered on his cheeks and forehead, across the bridge of his nose. And his eyes…holy shit his eyes. They were so green, so bright and full of a lifetime of experiences already. Castiel was absolutely hypnotized by them, feeling like he could just stare at them forever. He was sort of…beautiful. If that wasn’t weird to say. 

“Nice shirt,” Castiel said sarcastically, immediately sorry for the comment. 

“Thanks,” he responded, glancing down at his black t-shirt that read “take a picture, it’ll last longer” on the front in white block letters. “I thought it was fitting. Know where I can find a photographer around here?”

He finally, thankfully, released Castiel’s hand, leaning back to sit flat on the ground. He kept his feet propped up in front of him, his arms wrapped around his knees and his fingers wound together. 

“I’m a photographer. Or, I want to be,” Castiel’s voice came out surprisingly steady, if not a little quieter than he would have liked. He used his now free hand to push his glasses up, resettling them on the proper spot on his nose. 

Dean raised an eyebrow, smiling just a little bit. 

“You in this class?”

“Yes.”

“You need a model?”

Castiel hesitated. He did need a model. _Badly._ He just, wasn’t sure he needed a model _that_ badly. Would Dean be easy to work with? He was pretty, sure, but the pretty ones usually ended up being divas. At least with girls. 

“Uh, yes,” he said, still not confident with his answer. “Have you done this sort of thing before?”

“Nah,” Dean said, scrunching up his nose and looking around the room. “Can’t be that hard though. You just tell me what to do, right?”

Well, that was a good sign at least. Maybe some fresh blood would be good. 

“Okay, well, you’re hired. If you want.”

“Awesome,” Dean grinned again, tilting his head down to make eye contact again. “When do we start?”

“This afternoon? If you’re free?”

Dean glanced down at his watch for a second, and Castiel found himself hoping he would say no. 

“No can do buddy, gotta get to the garage. On a double today. I’m off tomorrow around two?”

“Oh, okay. Two, then. You can meet me outside this building.”

Dean smiled at him again and then hopped up to his feet, stepping around Castiel to walk towards the door. 

“Why’re you sitting on the floor, by the way?” he asked, stopping on his way to the doorway. 

“Seemed logical,” Castiel said over his shoulder, not turning to face him this time. He heard Dean laugh though, and the sound made his stomach clench. 

“Uh huh. And why’re you the only one here?”

Castiel sighed, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. “I might’ve been running late this morning.”

Dean laughed again, louder this time. 

“Well would ya look at that. We’re two peas in a pod, you and me.”

And with that he left, the sound of his boots audible all the way until he left the building. Castiel groaned and dropped his head into his hands again, wanting nothing more than to just crawl into his bed and wait out this entire semester. 

When he finally got up and left the building he went straight to Anna’s place, lacking the necessary energy to make it all the way back to his own home. 

“So?” she squealed as soon as she opened the door, barely even letting him inside before she started interrogating him. “Did you get somebody? Are they weird looking? Are they annoying?”

“I got somebody. _Definitely_ not weird looking. Not sure about annoying yet.”

“What’s her name?”

“ _His_ name is Dean.”

Anna paused, a smile slowly spreading across her face. 

“Oh my god. You are totally into him!” 

“Anna, stop it,” Castiel sighed, flopping down on the couch in her small living room. 

“Fine. Can you hook me up with him then?”

“No!” Castiel snapped, and Anna just laughed at him. She took the seat beside him on the couch, folding her legs up on the cushion. 

“Told ya. Totally into him.”

“Yeah well,” he stared down at his jeans, picking at a loose string. “I definitely got the _I’m super straight_ vibe from him so I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Anna gave him a sympathetic look, the one she knew Castiel hated. 

“Want to watch Planet Earth or something?” 

Castiel smiled at her, appreciative of her obvious attempt to change topics. 

“Sure. But you owe me some answers too, miss. About your olive-skinned freshman?”

She grinned at him, all white teeth and fair skin and wild red hair. He wished she could just be his model, but he knew realistically the time commitment was too intense, even if it was allowed. 

“His name is Ethan, and oh man he is _gorgeous.”_

“You are such a cougar,” Castiel laughed, poking Anna’s side with his finger. 

“Am not!” she snapped, before launching into the epic love story of how she decided to settle for him after her first two choices were picked. 

“Sounds romantic,” Castiel said when she was done, pushing his glasses up. 

“I won’t seduce him. I’m a professional. I _am,_ however, going to enjoy taking pictures of his pretty face for the next two weeks. When do you boys start?”

“Tomorrow,” he hummed, already knowing that Anna would want to tag along. “I’ll introduce you another day.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The next day, he sincerely wished that he had brought Anna along. That was his first mistake. His second mistake was looking in the mirror before he left. He knew, theoretically, that his hair was always going to be a lost cause no matter what he did with it. Just, actually _seeing_ it made him hyperaware of just how crazy it made him look. His third mistake was leaving forty minutes early when the walk only took twenty-five. That gave him fifteen whole minutes to sit on the steps of the building and just wait. 

He had his nose buried in one of his monthly photography magazines when he heard Dean’s heavy boots approach. He glanced up to see him standing at the base of the stairs, hands in his pockets and a happy look on his face. 

“Skinny dude, whats up?”

“I have a name you know,” Castiel sighed, slipping the magazine into his backpack and standing up. 

“Yeah, one you didn’t tell me yesterday.”

“Oh. It’s Castiel. Novak.”

“Nice to meet ya, Cas,” he said, his accent peeking out when he said the “a”. 

Castiel raised his eyebrows at the nickname, not sure if he liked it or not. 

“Likewise. Do you drink coffee, Dean?”

“In the middle of the day? Man after my own heart,” he smiled again, and Castiel felt his cheeks heat up. 

They made their way over to the campus coffee shop, managing to grab a small table towards the back. 

“Right,” Castiel said when they both sat down, coffees in hand. “Some details. We’ll be spending a lot of time together over the next two weeks, so feel free to ask for time off. After this we’ll have a preliminary shoot, figure out which kinds of lighting will work best. You will be paid, hourly, by the department, no more than 20 hours per week. Sound fair?”

“Sir yes sir,” he answered, giving Castiel a slow salute. He took a sip of his coffee, and Castiel made a mental note that he was drinking it black. 

“Good. So, Dean. Are you a student?”

Dean laughed a little bit, staring down at the rim of his cup. 

“Nah. Just a mechanic. My brother, though. He goes here. I just picked this up as a side gig, to get some extra cash.”

Castiel nodded, pleased to know that he wouldn’t have to schedule around any lectures other than his own. He pushed his glasses up with his finger and cleared his throat quietly. 

“Good. Great. Shall we get going then?” 

“Lead the way.”

Castiel felt extremely awkward the entire time. He didn’t say much, just letting the silence lull between them. Dean, on the other hand, seemed quite comfortable with the silence. He just strolled alongside Castiel, hands in his pockets and his eyes taking in the scenery around them. 

“You’re not taking me off to murder me, are you?”

“What?” Castiel turned his head to look at him, just barely managing to keep his feet moving. 

“Just asking. If you’re going to cut me up into little pieces I’d like some warning.”

“No, I’m not going to…we’re just going to my apartment?” 

Dean laughed, tossing his head back and staring up at the sky as he walked. 

“Dude, I’m kidding. You live fucking far though, man.”

“Over the river and through the woods,” Castiel mumbled and focused his eyes back on the sidewalk, feeling a little defensive of his place. “I like it.”

“I can’t wait to see it then.”

He looked over at Dean, just barely able to catch the small, almost shy smile that tugged at his lips. He cheeks warmed up a little bit, and he managed to come up with absolutely nothing to say. 

They arrived a few minutes later, and Castiel felt himself getting more and more nervous as he made his way up the thin metal staircase to the third floor. 

“So, uh, welcome. I guess,” he said as he opened the door, gesturing sort of vaguely at the cramped living room. He had felt like it was mostly clean when he left it that morning, but now it looked messy and embarrassingly unorganized. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy. You should see my place.” 

He patted Castiel on the back and sat down on the big brown couch, resting his arms along the back and planting his feet on the floor so that his legs were spread indecently wide. 

“No please, make yourself at home,” Castiel grumbled, dropping his backpack onto the ground and crossing his arms. 

“Sorry, drill sergeant,” he put up his hands in surrender and stood up, but there was an amused sort of spark in his eyes. 

Castiel just sighed and walked into the spare bedroom, pushing the door open as he entered. 

“This is my pseudo-studio,” he started, just sort of assuming that Dean had followed him. He gestured around at the white sheet currently hanging, the piles of various other colors piled in the corner, the many different makeshift light sources scattered around the room, as well as the tripod and the small, high-backed wooden chair in the middle. “We’ll be working here, mostly.”

Dean entered the room and wandered around, dragging his fingers across the various surfaces and objects. Castiel watched his slow progression, mesmerized by the way he moved. He walked with a purpose, each step slow and carefully measured. His eyes scanned the space, head tilting and rotating around in all directions. He looked, quite honestly, like a predator.

“Awesome,” Dean said quietly to himself, like the rickety, makeshift room was something to be impressed by. 

“I’m going to set up. You can sit, if you like.”

Castiel went about preparing his things, which mostly consisted of setting up the tripod in the correct position. When Dean was finished inspecting the room he walked over to the chair, spinning it around so that he was straddling it, forearms resting on the wooden back. 

“Did you just…” Castiel stared at him, tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes. “Did you just move my chair?”

Dean lifted up his arms and looked down at the old thing, almost like he had forgotten it was there. He glanced up at Castiel, a guilty smile on his face. 

“Was I not supposed to?”

“No,” Castiel said flatly. “You weren’t.”

“I’ll move it back. You gonna keep those things on?” he pointed at Castiel’s face, presumably at his big, black-rimmed glasses. 

“Considering that I’m legally blind without them, I would say yes. I’m keeping them on.”

Castiel turned away, adjusting his reflectors for the daylight coming in through the window. 

“Isn’t it hard to look through the camera?”

Castiel sighed, exasperation slipping into his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose before responding, thankful that he was facing away from where Dean was sitting. 

“I’ll manage.”

He moved back to the camera and peered through the viewfinder, his right eye closed and his nose pressed softly against the back of the camera. He reached backwards and adjusted his stool so that he could sit down while comfortably looking through the camera. Meanwhile, Dean stayed put in his chair, his hands drumming on the thin slats on the back and his head bobbing to some invisible tune. 

Castiel had to hold back a smile while he watched him, somehow enjoying the carelessness of his body language. He spent a minute or two adjusting the lens, perfecting the focus and the setting. 

“Should I be posing right now?” Dean asked, pausing his air drumming for the time being. 

“No,” Castiel hummed, still fiddling with the camera. “I’m adjusting the light meter. No pictures yet.”

“Doesn’t the camera do that for you?”

He looked genuinely interested, so Castiel suspended his sarcasm for the moment. 

“Some of them do, yes. This one, however, does not. I’m partial to classic 35mm manuals, so that’s what I use.”

“In English?”

Castiel huffed out a small laugh, letting his lips curve up into a small smile but keeping his face pressed to the camera. 

“It’s a film camera, nothing electronic except for a basic light meter. When we’re finished, I’ll develop the film by hand.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, nodding his head. Castiel wasn’t sure if that meant he understood or not. After a couple of seconds his face relaxed and he leaned forward, settling his forearms on top of the back of the chair again and resting his chin on top of them. He was staring down at the ground, lips pouted slightly and his long eyelashes casting shadows on his freckled cheeks. 

Castiel’s breath left his body in one swift _whoosh,_ leaving him completely floored. Dean was so much more than just pretty. 

He inhaled quietly, like he didn't want to disturb Dean. He wound the film slowly and snapped several pictures in a row, afraid that this perfect moment was going to pass. Already he could envision the blacks and whites, how they would mix and intertwine. How Dean’s freckles would pop on his skin, the pure contentment laced throughout his posture. 

When he heard the snap of the camera Dean glanced up, his entire body staying completely still except for his eyes. Castiel took a couple more pictures, completely mesmerized. Dean stared straight through the camera, like he could see Castiel hiding behind it. Like he was staring into Castiel, not into the lens of a camera. 

After a couple more snaps he sat back, hands gripping the back of the chair and a cocky grin on his face. 

“Ready, set, go? No warning?”

“You looked perfect.”

Castiel felt his face flush as soon as he said it. _Shit shit shit._

Dean laughed and looked down at his lap, running a hand through his light brown hair. Castiel took more pictures, loving the candidness of these moments. 

“I’ll tell you, Cas, you’re gonna have to take me on a date or something before you start talking like that.”

Castiel felt his stomach tie itself up in knots, absolutely sure that Dean was joking but still sort of uncomfortable. 

“Stop talking.”

Dean made like he was zipping his lips, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. Castiel sort of knew, someplace in his mind, that this entire roll of film was going to be useless to him. It was in no way related to his project, not helpful in the slightest. And yet here he was, still taking more pictures. For some reason. 

“Dean, can you at least try to look at the camera for more than three seconds at a time?”

That got him a genuine, amused smile, one that he made sure to capture. 

“You got it, boss.”

He didn’t really look at the camera though, he just looked everywhere around the camera. His eyes jumped around, everywhere from the top of the tripod to where Castiel’s finger rested on the trigger. 

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“The lens. You should be looking at it.”

He smiled and shifted his gaze so that he was looking at the lens again, but thankfully didn’t stare through it with such intensity as before. 

“Am I a bad model? Is that why you're being such a grinch?”

“A what?”

“A grinch.”

Castiel paused, furrowing his eyebrows and pressing his lips tight together. 

“You’re not a bad model,” he said after a minute. “Even Tyra would be impressed with you.”

Dean laughed at that, open mouthed and happy. Castiel snapped one picture, and then he ran out of film. _Shit._

“Uh, that’s it,” he mumbled, leaning back away from the camera. 

“Well, that was easy.”

Dean gripped the back of the chair and stood up, sliding his hands back into his pockets. 

“Today was just a preliminary shoot, so I can get a feel for you.”

“Damn Novak, what’d I say about a date?” he laughed, rocking on the balls of his feet. 

“Stop it,” Castiel snapped, tension rising in his gut. Dean tossed his hands up in surrender, an amused look on his face. “Next time will be the real thing.”

Dean just nodded in response, running a hand through his hair again.

“When are you available next?”

“Tomorrow? Don’t work Thursdays.”

“Good,” Castiel pushed his glasses up his nose, making a mental note to clean them once Dean was gone. “I have lecture until noon, we can meet up after that, if that’s convenient. Say 12:30?”

Dean smiled at him, big and cocky. “Sure thing, Cas.” 

Castiel showed him out after that, making sure that his brother was in fact coming to pick him up. There was no drawn out goodbye, no hand shaking or hugging or anything exciting, really. It was sort of awkward, quite honestly, which was probably 95% Castiel’s fault. Dean didn’t seem bothered by it, or he didn’t notice. One of the two. 

As soon as he was gone Castiel leaned his back against the door, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. He pulled out his phone and dialed Anna, who answered after the first ring. 

“I need a drink,” he sighed. This was going to be a long two weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, body parts, then.”
> 
> Castiel’s eyes flicked up to meet Dean’s gaze.
> 
> “Essentially.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I seem to have written another chapter. Probably don't expect to get updates this fast always, I was just feeling particularly inspired. Apparently. Thanks so much to all of you for joining me on this little journey, I hope you enjoy where it takes you!

He didn’t get to have that drink, unfortunately. Anna promised him a round later that night, but she had a class at six and that left Castiel on his own.

He tried to sit down and watch some TV, he tried to work on some reading for his lit course, he tried to cook himself something to eat, none of it worked. He felt itchy, like he needed to do something with his hands. So he packed up his backpack and set off for the darkroom, figuring that it would at least keep him occupied for a couple of hours.

The photography lab was empty, of course, Wednesday night apparently not being the most popular time to develop film and pictures. He popped the roll of film out of his camera and set it on the counter with a reel and a developing tank. The big metal sink filled slowly with water, his fingers resting under the faucet to gauge the water temperature. He pulled three big jugs out from under the sink, swirling the liquid around inside each one before placing it in the sink to adjust.

While that worked he dried his hands methodically, moving into the separate light-sealed room to transfer his film. His vision went black as soon as the door closed, barely able to tell if his eyes were open or closed. He easily unwound the film from the camera wheel and wrapped it around the bigger wheel, his thin fingers working easily out of habit even without the slightest bit of sight. It only took him a few minutes, but he almost wished it took longer. The dark and the quiet of the room was peaceful, like his senses could take a break for once.

The developing process was simple enough, just the step by step usage of developer, stopper, fixer, some agitation in between. When he was finished he hung the film strip up to dry, not really taking the time to look at any of the pictures. He wandered into the darkroom and went about setting up, preparing the tubs of developer, stop bath, fixer, and a water rinse for the exposed pictures. There were still clotheslines tacked to the walls for drying pictures, but he grabbed a couple extra clips anyway.

It took him a few more minutes to cut up his film into strips and to prep his enlarger while his eyes adjusted to the dim, reddish light. He started, of course, with the first photo he had taken of Dean. His eyes cast downward, his chin resting on the skin of his forearms. Castiel flipped on the enlarger light and adjusted the focus then turned it back off. He grabbed a slip of emulsion paper, only about an inch wide, and placed it under his easel, right about where he remembered the bridge of Dean’s nose being.

Generally, he found test strips to be sort of pointless. It all felt too scientific to him, when he was forced to perfect the exposure that precisely. This wasn’t science to him, there was no right or wrong exposure time. It was a preference, one that he was very good at discovering without test strips. He used one here though, because he was trying to achieve a specific effect. It took him quite a bit of time to find the right filter, to get the contrast he wanted, but he managed. Then he finally slid out a pristine sheet of 5x7 emulsion paper and placed it under the enlarger.

His heart was pattering in his chest, and that itchy, restless feeling was back. He sort of felt like bouncing, like he needed to burn off some energy. The light came on for six seconds before it snapped off, and it took most of Castiel’s self-control to calmly remove the paper and slide it into the developer.

If he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t been this excited about developing pictures in a long, _long_ time. Certainly not during this dreadful portraits class. And as he watched the image slowly appear, he felt that familiar, floating excitement that made him fall in love with photography in the first place.

At first it just looked like darker dots on a white paper, all of them appearing one by one in random clusters all around. Then came the chair, Dean’s hair, his jeans, the outline of his shoulders. The dots, Castiel realized with a smile, were Dean’s freckles. Scattered across his arms and hands, the bridge of his nose. They continued to get darker, distorted by the filter exactly how Castiel wanted them.

In all it took about a minute and a half, and Castiel was in awe the entire time.

The stop bath and the fixer were less exciting. He used the side of his hand to slide some of the water off before carefully hanging the finished print and admiring his work. He wasn’t one to brag, usually, but this print was incredible.

The bottom of the frame cut off right around mid-thigh, the angle tilted down just slightly. Dean was a little bit off center, since he had stupidly decided to move Castiel’s carefully placed chair. Everything around him was stark white, bleeding into the unexposed white edges of the paper so it was impossible to tell where the picture ended. It almost looked like he was floating, staring down at something below him.

And, of course, the freckles were Castiel’s favorite part. They looked dark in the picture, and just as beautiful as they looked in real life. They looked like constellations on his skin, and Castiel found himself wanting to connect the dots to see what they might form. He stood in silence and stared at the picture for a while, his dilated pupils adjusted for the darkness and the only audible sound the _drip, drip_ of water falling on the floor.

The next couple of hours passed in a blur of Dean’s face. Castiel tinkered with different filters and exposures, he tried different kinds of paper, he tried tilting the enlarger. He tried some zoomed in and some zoomed out. And at some point, he ran out of clips.

He was standing back, admiring the prints, when he heard the clicking sound of shoes on the floor.

 _“Castiel you better be in here, asshole,”_ came Anna’s voice from outside the door, annoyed but laced with a subtle hint of worry.

“Yeah,” he called, not turning towards her voice. “You can come in.”

He heard the door swing open and then click shut again, Anna appearing at his side.

“I knew I’d find you here. Is this what you’ve been doing all night?”

“All night?” he glanced over at her, expecting to see one of her trademark glares but catching something different entirely. “What time is it?”

“Eleven,” she mumbled, her voice quiet and almost awed. She reached out a hand slowly as if to touch one of the prints, almost like she didn't know she was moving.

“Anna…” Castiel warned, not wanting her finger prints on his photos.

She pulled her hand back right away, placing her fingers on her lips.

“Sorry. I’m just…wow, Castiel. These are beautiful.”

He smiled a little bit, pushing his glasses up his nose and running a hand through his hair.

“Thanks. They’re not really anything special,” he lied, not wanting to sound snobby. “Uh, did you say eleven?”

She seemed to snap herself out of the spell she was under, finally turning to look at him with a big smile on her face.

“Yes, and judging by your confusion I’d say you left your phone at home again and lost track of time. Am I right?”

“Basically, yeah,” Castiel laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“I won’t be mad at you if you get cleaned up right now and come have a drink with me.”

“Anna, it’s eleven o’clock.”

“So we’ll go to a bar.”

She walked around the room and started cleaning up, throwing away scraps of paper and putting away the chemicals.

“You know how I feel about bars.”

“I do. And you should know that I don’t care. I promised you a drink.”

Castiel just sighed and started carefully collecting his photos, knowing that it was useless to argue with her. He took a quick second to glance down at his old jeans and t-shirt, wishing that he had actually gotten dressed for once.

“Let’s go, loser,” Anna called when they were finished, snapping her fingers at him and leaving the room.

Castiel sighed and slung his backpack over his shoulder, following her out of the room.

“Can I at least drop my stuff off?”

He took a couple of big steps to catch up to her slowing down when they were walking next to each other.

“Nope. Sorry sweetie, you should learn to carry your phone around.”

Turned out that being at a packed bar with your backpack on was at least four times more awkward than Castiel had anticipated.

He and Anna found two seats at the bar top which was, quite frankly, a pretty staggering miracle considering how full the place was. Castiel found himself thinking, as he often did, if any of these people actually went to school or if they were just there to drink.

“It’s a Wednesday. What is everyone doing here?”

“Dollar beers and two dollar wells! Duh.”

Anna just laughed and hailed the bartender, flashing him a flirty grin to get his attention. It worked, of course, because Anna was beautiful and she knew how to use it. She ordered a vodka cranberry for herself, and some type of beer for him. He didn’t really like it, but he drank it anyway and tried his best to ignore the bitter taste.

“So those pictures look pretty damn good. For a prelim shoot.”

She glanced over at him knowingly, playing with the short straws floating in her drink. Castiel just shrugged and took a long drink, not really sure how to explain himself.

“And I know you aren’t going to use them.”

When he didn’t answer again she poked him in the side, making him squirm away.

“I don’t know, okay? It was fun.”

“I’m sorry, did you say fun? Mr. Super-Serious-Photographer had _fun_ during a _portrait_ shoot?”

He let himself laugh a little bit, sort of because she was giggling and he couldn’t help himself.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” she grinned, sipping her drink.

“I don’t know, Anna. Maybe we can skip introductions on this one?”

She just raised her eyebrows and smiled suspiciously, eyes flicking up to the top of his head.

“Something wrong with my hair? Because you know this is how it looks.”

Anna just shook her head and chewed her lip, refocusing her gaze down at her drink. Castiel was about to turn around and see what she was staring at when he felt a pair of big hands grasp his shoulders.

“Skinny dude!”

He rolled his eyes at the familiar voice, spinning around in his seat to face Dean who was standing behind him.

“Name. I have one.”

He heard Anna stifle a laugh next to him, but he kept eye contact with Dean. He had a big, cocky grin on his face and he was wearing the same clothes as that afternoon, plus a purple checkered flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His face was sort of flushed and his eyes looked glazed, so Castiel had to assume he’d been there quite a bit longer.

“Sorry, Cas,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets and licking his lips slowly.

Castiel tilted his head and fixed his glasses, giving Dean his best “really?” look. Dean seemed completely unaffected, turning his head slowly to catch Anna’s eye.

“And you are?” his smile turned unbearably flirty, and Castiel got the distinct feeling that he was intruding on a private moment.

Castiel looked at Anna, back at Dean, and back to Anna. She looked like she was in a trance for a moment, her eyes wide and a small smile on her face. Yeah, he knew what that was like.

“I’m Anna,” she said, seeming to gather herself. Dean reached out and took her hand, shaking it gently. “I’m Castiel’s better half.”

“My best friend,” Castiel added, trying not to growl. Anna seemed to notice the tension in his voice and pulled her hand away, clearing her throat gently.

“You must be Dean.”

His gaze skimmed back over to Castiel, that same flirty look on his face.

“You talkin’ about me, Cas?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, closing his eyes for a second.

“I mentioned you. Anna is in my class.”

Dean nodded, rocking back on his heels.

“Should’ve showed up on time. I could’ve been partnered with you.”

“Because I’m so terrible?” Castiel snapped, crossing his arms.

Dean laughed again before backing away.

“Did you know you’re wearin’ a backpack?”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel sighed, glaring at Anna. “I’m aware.”

“Just checking. See ya tomorrow, boss. Anna, so glad to meet you.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and spun back around to the bar, running his hands through his hair. Anna waited a couple of seconds for Dean to get farther away before she spoke.

“Damn, Castiel. What have you gotten yourself into?”

He took another long drink of his beer, tempted to just skull it.

“No idea. By the way, yes. He is annoying.”

“If it helps,” she smiled a little bit, then deliberately pulled her lips down into a much more serious position. “I don’t think you’re that skinny. You’re just slim.”

Castiel laughed, shaking his head at her. “Shut up and buy me another drink.”

The next hour at the bar sucked. Now that he _knew_ Dean was there he kept catching him in the corner of his eye. And no, of course Castiel wasn’t watching him. Of course he wasn’t.

But if he _were_ to watch him, _hypothetically,_ he _might_ have noticed that he spent the first half hour or so flirting with every pair of legs in the place. Then he _might_ have seen a thin, beautiful, shiny haired, thin-waisted, tan-skinned brunette in a tight skirt arrive and he _might_ have noticed how Dean devoted all of his attention to her. She seemed, if Castiel wasn’t mistaken, generally immune to his charms. But she let him hang his arm around her shoulders. Whatever that meant.

Around 12:30 Castiel managed to convince Anna to let him go home. It was dark outside, but the light sort of darkness that happened during the fall. The air felt sticky and too warm, and he was already reluctant to make the trek home. Still, his bed was waiting at the end of that trek and it felt like he hadn’t been in it in a very, very long time.

But because life is cruel, his alarm did indeed go off the next morning. He just sort of groaned and flailed at it, having to smack it three or four times before the damn thing shut up. He laid in bed for a couple of minutes before he put his glasses on, observing the blurry mixture of shapes and colors all around him. He was pretty sure his vision was rapidly getting worse. Swell.

His 8:30 photo class wasn’t meeting that day, in favor of their new subjects, so Castiel’s day started at 10. His Digital Photography class was fairly straightforward and mostly boring, but nothing that required any extensive effort on his part. His English Lit class, on the other hand, was an entirely different beast.

To say he hated the course and every other literature course he had encountered wouldn’t truly do his feelings any justice.

And that was the story of how Castiel ended up in a freshman level Gen. Ed. course in his third year. Which was just a blast, to say the least.

He sat in the back corner of the generally gigantic lecture hall in an effort to be inconspicuous. It didn’t work.

“There’s my unicorn,” said a high voice to his right. He got a whiff of too strong perfume and heard the scrape of the chair next to him as someone sat down. “Where were you on Tuesday?”

He didn’t look up from the book in front of him as she spoke, trying and failing to read and hold a conversation simultaneously.

“I wasn’t entirely in the mood for picking apart great works of art word by word. Was it exhilarating?”

“As usual.”

Castiel just nodded and hummed in response, skimming the lines quickly in search of anything important.

“I would help but, I give zero fucks about this class too,” she reached over and flipped his book closed with one finger, sliding it away from him. “Guess we’re screwed together.”

Castiel sighed and lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, adjusting his glasses with his finger. She was smiling wickedly at him, her eyes bright and brimming with ideas.

“I hope that wasn’t supposed to be an innuendo, Meg. You can do better.”

She giggled and fluttered her eyelashes at him innocently, and Castiel just rolled his eyes.

“Why, Clarence. I would never.”

He couldn’t help but smile a little bit at her dramatic, fake southern drawl. Meg was harmless enough, if not a bit infatuated. Anna had warned him to “watch out for fangirls” when she showed up as a volunteer in his portrait class, but he picked her anyway. She had an interesting face.

Castiel was fairly sure she considered them _friends_ now, which was an odd enough concept to consider. She’d even tried to kissed him once, during a particularly late night at the very end of their two week stint together. He'd set that straight as quickly as he was able, having absolutely no desire to encourage her little freshman crush.

He spent most of the hour long class thinking that his soul was definitely being sucked out of his body bit by bit. And he doodled every once in a while. Meg whispered a couple of things to him, mostly making fun of comments made by their peers, but the most Castiel ever did was hum in response. He wanted to get home, get his camera in his hands. He would never admit it, but he was actually excited to work with Dean again.

Which was probably exactly why 12:30 flew by with no sign of Dean.

At 12:40 Castiel decided that Dean probably had just gotten lost and would be there soon.

At 1:00 he started getting mad at Dean for probably being hungover in some girl’s bed instead of at Castiel’s apartment where he was supposed to be.

At 1:15 he was angry at himself for picking such a deadbeat, for making a decision on a whim instead of seeking out someone better. Someone with more experience.

At 1:18 he was mad at Dean again.

At 1:32 he heard stomping on the stairs and an obnoxiously loud banging on the door that made him flinch. He flicked off the television and shuffled to the door, his socked feet not making any noise.

He opened the door with every intention of giving Dean a piece of his mind, of telling him to fuck off and find a watch. And then he saw Dean’s face, registered the black smudges on his cheeks and forehead, the way his chest was rising and falling a little bit too fast.

“I am, so sorry, Cas,” he said for the first time since Castiel met him sounding serious and sincere. “I got called into the garage.”

He ran a nervous hand through his hair, smudging more black on himself from his hands.

“You’re filthy,” Castiel noted, letting his eyes slowly trail over Dean’s body from his dirty, ripped jeans to his worn out t-shirt to the pinkness of his skin.

Dean glanced down at himself, flipping his hands over to examine both sides.

“No shit,” he grumbled, huffing out a small laugh. “Didn’t really have time to get cleaned up. Didn’t want you to think I wasn’t coming.”

Castiel immediately felt guilty for being so angry. Of course he had to have a good reason.

“I got a towel, in the car,” he continued, gesturing behind himself. “Just gimme a few minutes and—“

“No, you should keep it,” Castiel mused, eyeing the smudges again.

“Huh?”

“I enjoy it. It’s, authentic. I think we can use it.”

Dean rubbed the back of his head, looking generally confused.

“Sure, boss. Whatever you say.”

Castiel turned and walked toward the spare room, intending to get started right away since they were already running late.

“Hey, Cas?”

He spun back around, seeing Dean still standing outside the doorway.

“Apologies, Count. Do you need to be invited in now?”

“Nah,” he laughed. “Think I could grab some food though? Feelin’ like I need some sustenance.”

Castiel looked at him incredulously. “You really didn’t eat before you came?”

“Dude,” he held out his arms and looked down at himself. “I _just_ left the garage.”

“Fine,” Castiel sighed, rubbing his eyes. ”I hope you like Ramen.”

Dean did like Ramen, as it turned out. And leave it to him to be weird about it.

“You aren’t going to cook it?”

“‘Course not. This is the best way.”

“It’s barbaric.”

“It’s awesome.”

Castiel watched as Dean broke the hard noodles into little pieces, sprinkling the fake flavoring powder on top. He popped a bite into his mouth, smiling through the loud crunching like it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

“You’re freaking me out.”

“Then you sir,” Dean pointed at him, mouth still working on that first bite. “Have not seen enough crazy shit.”

“I would say this falls right underneath the lovely woman with a machete holster and the cape that I saw at Walmart one time.”

“Sounds like a girl I’d like,” he grinned, and Castiel just couldn't help himself.

“She was at least in her fifties. So knock yourself out.”

“Well, shit.”

Castiel was quiet for a minute or two while Dean crunched on more bites of uncooked noodles.

“Honestly, Dean, who taught you to behave like this? Apes?”

“My dad, actually,” he smiled sort of sadly. “We didn’t always have a stove to cook on when I was little.”

Of course he had to stumble upon some awkward tidbit of personal history. Of course.

“Oh,” he said, 100% not sure how to respond. “Dean—“

He just held up a hand, smiling at Castiel with big puffy cheeks full of food.

“No chick flick moments,” he said when he had swallowed enough to speak.

Castiel just nodded, still feeling awkward but not really knowing how to fix it.

“So, uh, today is going to be fairly different,” he started, deciding to focus on why Dean was actually there. “These prints will hopefully be used in my final project.”

“Which is?”

“Pieces of humanity.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“I suppose,” Castiel hummed, unimpressed with his own topic and hyperaware of how utterly snobbish it sounded. Still, he found it generally more enjoyable than most other types of portraiture, which was saying something.

“So, body parts, then.”

Castiel’s eyes flicked up to meet Dean’s gaze.

“Essentially.”

Dean nodded, his mouth working on a particularly large bite of Ramen.

“It’s primarily done with close-ups, so I’ll be spending a large portion of our time together in your personal space.”

“Sure but, just so you know,” Dean started, picking up another piece and tossing it in his mouth. “This doesn’t count as a date.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and stood up, stalking off to the spare room to prepare his stuff.

“Let me know when you’re ready to actually work,” he tossed over his shoulder, already sort of exhausted.

“Love it when you roll your eyes at me!” he heard Dean say from the kitchen, a smile in his voice. “Makes me feel special!”

Castiel sunk down onto the stool behind his tripod, rubbing his eyes and making a mental note to definitely stop rolling his eyes at Dean Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psssssst dear readers. I am sincerely sorry for lack of interaction in this chapter. I promise, next time there will be loads more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you trust me?”
> 
> “Not in the slightest.”
> 
> “Cas,” Dean laughed, his smile completely genuine. “You’re supposed to lie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am literally so sorry this took so long. New school, new state, lots going on. Basically I am a big trash bag and I suck. I will endeavor to not make you guys wait as long next time, but know that I so appreciate your infinite freaking patience. I love you all, and thank you in advance for reading :)

“We’ll be quickly doing hands, and then shoulders and some upper back.”

Dean hummed in response, walking into Castiel’s studio. The white sheet was still hanging, so he decided to just use it again at the risk of having to scrub motor grease off of it. 

“You’ll need to sit on the floor right now.”

“Rough, dude. I _just_ got done working.”

“Not my problem,” Castiel mumbled, lifting his camera off of its tripod and sitting with his legs crossed on the ground. 

Dean chuckled to himself and sat down across from him, a bit closer than Castiel had anticipated. Castiel glanced up at him, pushing his glasses up his nose. Only the very corners of Dean’s mouth were turned up in a smile, which Castiel tried very hard not to notice. 

“This okay?”

“Fine.”

Castiel pulled the camera up to his eye, focusing it on Dean’s chest and adjusting the settings one by one. 

“Act natural, I suppose.”

Dean froze for a moment, his hands awkwardly held flat out in front of him, his fingers splayed wide. He wiggled his fingers a little bit, but otherwise kept his hands there. Castiel sighed heavily, dropping the camera to his lap. 

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Does that in any way look natural to you?”

Dean glanced down at his hands, huffing a small laugh. 

“Guess not.”

He adjusted his hands, folding them together neatly and laying his thumbs perfectly on top of one another. Castiel rolled his eyes, trying not to get frustrated. 

“You look like you should be sitting in an office.”

“Huh?”

“Your hands are covered in grease and you have them folded nicely like some businessman. Act, natural.”

“Dude,” Dean groaned, dropping his head into his hands. He covered his eyes, his fingers sliding just slightly into his hair and leaving black marks on his face. “What does that even mean?”

Castiel quickly inched closer, snatching the camera off his lap and snapping a few pictures of his blackened fingers, the backs of his palms. Dean glanced up when he heard the camera snap, but he kept his hands out like they were cupping something so Castiel snapped a couple more. 

“Better.”

“Better? I didn’t do anything.”

He sounded confused still, but the movements of his hands were much more genuine. 

“Exactly. Don’t think so much.”

The rest of the pictures were far easier to get. Dean settled his hands onto his dirty pants for a couple of moments, allowing Castiel to bend low and squeeze in some of the white background. He rubbed the back of his neck, which maybe was pushing the line of what Castiel could and couldn’t use, but the composition was too perfect. His favorite shots happened when Dean used his one hand to massage the other, his thumb rubbing hard circles into the palm of the opposite hand. His dirty fingers curled slowly inward, a sort of tension in the muscles that Castiel loved. 

Somewhere, his brain noted the closeness of their proximity. Castiel’s knees ended up resting on top of Dean’s, and often Castiel would reach out to adjust his position ever so slightly. The skin on skin contact didn’t seem so intense then, probably because he wasn’t noticing it. His brain was singularly focused on taking pictures, and all other senses fell to the wayside. 

Dean was conspicuously quiet the entire time, and it took Castiel until the _pop_ of the final picture of that roll of film before he really noticed. He rewound the film and popped it out of the camera, reaching behind him to grab the empty film container and dropping the used roll inside of it.

“You are awfully quiet today.”

“Long day.”

He yawned quietly, and Castiel glanced up to see the sleepiness that had spread across Dean’s features when he wasn’t paying attention. His eyelids looked droopy, his cheeks pink.

“Long night is more like it,” Castiel grumbled, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. 

“Hey, that’s right. I saw you. And your friend.”

“You remember.”

Castiel scrunched up his nose, fixing his glasses and fiddling with his camera in his lap. Dean laughed sheepishly, wiping a dirty hand on his forehead. 

“Sorry I was, uh, kinda drunk. Didn’t think I’d be up so friggin’ early, ya know?”

“Hmm,” Castiel set down the camera, scooting away and standing up to grab more film. 

“Something wrong?”

“Not at all. Take your shirt off, please.”

He heard Dean laugh, and glanced over to catch the grin on his face that made Castiel’s stomach flutter uncomfortably. 

“Straight to the point, then. Didn't know we'd do nudity so soon.”

"We can do the clothed shoulders and back portion first, if you prefer. We will have to do the shirtless stuff eventually."

He made an effort to include a mixture of textures in his photographs, which included showing more and less skin in different sets. And if he was curious about Dean shirtless, well, sue him. 

"Nah it's cool. I don't mind."

Castiel didn’t watch on purpose, he just couldn’t really tear his eyes away. Dean grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, mussing his short hair. He then tossed his shirt to the side, glancing down at his now-bare torso that was unfairly distracting. 

“You want me sitting?”

“Please.”

He resisted the urge to physically shake his head, feeling like there was a haze clouding his brain. He’d been around attractive people before, so why should this obnoxious mechanic be any different? 

He situated himself behind Dean at an angle, sitting again with his legs crossed and his camera in his lap. Dean twisted just slightly and smirked at Castiel over his shoulder, which was just absurdly appealing. 

_It’s just because he has his shirt off. This is normal. Focus on the pictures._

His own advice turned out to be much more difficult to actually accept. Dean’s torso was well-defined, but not bulky. The muscles across his back rolled lithely as he shifted, his shoulder blades popping out and stretching across his skin. The freckles, of course, were probably the worst part. Dusted across the tops of his shoulders, a scattering of dots that Castiel had the insane urge to trace with the tips of his fingers. 

“I’ll be starting now,” Castiel mumbled, not really sure why he said that. “Try to create different shapes, I suppose. Some movement in the muscles.”

“Like this?”

Dean raised his arms and flexed, almost making Castiel drool over the increased definition of the muscles in his arms and shoulders. _Holy shit._

_Focus._

Castiel raised the camera and snapped a few pictures, already excited to get these in print. He heard Dean laugh and drop his arms, shifting and arching his back to stretch. 

_Upper back,_ Castiel thought to himself, even as he shifted the camera to catch the curve of Dean’s spine. _We’re doing upper back today._

_Focus._

Dean shifted again, rolling his shoulders and tilting his neck from side to side. He stretched his arms out to the sides, he reached them over his head to rub the back of his neck. He twisted his torso from side to side, he curled his body forward into a C-shape, dropping his head forward. 

All Castiel could do was take pictures, take pictures as fast as his fingers could wind up the film. 

_Focus._

And then the camera popped one last time, and Castiel realized he was out of film. When he didn’t say anything, Dean twisted around again to glance back at him. 

“Was that okay?”

Castiel met his eyes, feeling thoroughly ruffled from the entire ordeal. And then Dean was still sitting shirtless in front of him, and really who needed to speak words anyway?

“Cas?”

“Fine. It was fine. You can get dressed now.”

He stood up and walked away, trying to calm his racing heart and his traitorous mind. By all rights he should _not_ be this flustered, not after a damn photo shoot. He needed to get a handle on himself, like _now._

“You sure?”

“Yes, Dean. I’m sure.”

“So, that it?” 

He heard Dean stand up and walk toward him, and he hoped to God that his shirt was back on. Castiel grabbed the two finished rolls of film and strolled into the living room, dropping them both in his backpack so he could develop them the next day. 

“For today.”

“You got plans?” 

Dean followed him into the living room, dropping down onto the couch and kicking off his shoes. 

“Are you inviting yourself to stay?”

Dean laughed, grinning at Cas as he joined him on the couch. 

“You wanna kick me out?”

“That depends,” Cas shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m always in the mood for some _Star Wars.”_

“Never seen it.”

Dean stared at him like he’d grown another head. His jaw was hanging open, his eyebrows raised higher than Castiel would’ve thought they could go. 

“You’re shitting me.”

Castiel shrugged, feeling his lips twitch up at Dean’s appalled expression. 

“No fucking way,” Dean got up and pulled his shoes on, stomping over to the door. 

“Uh, what’re you—“

“Give me thirty minutes.”

And then he was gone, slamming the door behind him. Castiel was wholly confused, not entirely sure what just happened. How did they go from a photo shoot to Dean inviting himself over to Dean storming out over Star Wars? 

Castiel stayed sitting on the couch for a few minutes, drumming his fingers on his knee. He didn’t really know if Dean was coming back, so he eventually climbed off the couch in search of his already developed photos. 

He pulled the folder out of his backpack, spreading all of the pictures out on the floor in front of him. He really was pleased with them, even looking at them now. The first one was still his favorite. Especially now that he knew Dean a little better, knew how rare it was to catch him in a quiet moment like that. 

It didn’t feel like a very long time, but then Castiel had a habit of getting too caught up in his work. He jumped when his door flung open and Dean strolled in, three movies in one hand and a paper bag in the other. 

“Sorry that took so long. Why are you sitting on the floor?”

He had that stupid cocky grin on his face again, and Castiel just had to roll his eyes. He noticed that his hands and face weren't dirty anymore, so Dean must've taken the time to clean himself up.

“Shut up. What’s in the bag?”

Castiel gathered up the photos and put them away, not really interested in Dean seeing them just yet. Would he know that Castiel put way too much time into them considering that he probably wasn’t going to use them? Probably not. Did he want to risk it? No way. 

“Dinner,” Dean sat down on the couch, setting the movies and the bag on the coffee table. He reached inside and pulled out two gigantic burgers, then a big cup of fries. “Figured I could feed you since I stole your ramen.”

“How kind of you.”

Castiel wandered over to the couch and sat down, tucking his feet up underneath him and picking up the movie on top of the stack. 

“You realize this is the fourth one, right?”

“Dude,” Dean groaned, throwing his head back. “You’ve gotta be friggin’ _joking.”_

Castiel just stared at him, picking up a fry and nibbling the end of it. He gave Dean a small smile, trying not to notice how Dean’s gaze dropped to his lips and lingered there for just a second too long. 

“The fourth one is the first one.”

“But why?”

“It just is.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Cas,” Dean laughed, his smile completely genuine. “You’re supposed to lie.”

“Fine.”

Dean shook his head, slipping the movie into the DVD player and turning on the TV. It wasn’t anything fancy, and Castiel hardly used it, but it was something. Some dramatic music started playing, and Castiel had to very studiously resist the urge to laugh. 

“You got anything to drink?”

“Water,” he started, trying to think if he had anything else. “Maybe a beer or two in the fridge. No clue how old they are though, so drink at your own risk.”

Castiel was much more of a wine drinker himself, but he occasionally ended up with some extra beers in his fridge after miscellaneous events. He almost never drank them, so they tended to sit until someone took them off his hands. 

“I’ll take that risk,” Dean wandered into the kitchen, and Castiel assumed from the hiss of a bottle opening that he had found something to his liking. 

Dean flipped off the living room lights on his way back, leaving just the light in the kitchen that was barely enough to eat by. Castiel tried to focus on the movie, nibbling on his burger and _not_ looking at Dean sitting next to him. Especially not when Dean took slow drags of his beer, when his lips met the rim of the glass bottle. 

The movie wasn’t nearly as painful as Castiel thought it would be, though he did think that some of the effects were hilariously bad and the whole thing felt very dramatic. Still, it was entertaining enough and even more so when he heard Dean’s mumbled commentary.

“Do you know every line of this movie?” Castiel wondered out loud, about halfway through the film. Dean had been quoting along for a while now, which was simultaneously amusing and annoying. 

“Not _every_ line.”

“Think you could wait to quote them until after they happen? They lose their effect if you say them first.”

Dean laughed and Castiel glared at him, holding his gaze while Dean took another long drink. He didn’t care as much as he put on, but he couldn’t resist poking at Dean’s ego.

“Sure thing, Chewie.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Chewbacca. Blue eyes, similar hair.”

He wasn’t sure why he was surprised that Dean had noticed his eye color, but he was. Most people were too distracted by the glasses. And then—

“We do _not_ have similar hair. Mine is much darker.”

“Whatever you say.”

Castiel huffed and turned back to the TV, trying to focus. Besides, his hair wasn’t _that_ crazy. 

Dean fell asleep sometime before the movie ended, and Castiel only noticed because his incessant quoting tapered off and finally stopped. He couldn’t say he was surprised, especially given how tired he had looked earlier. Castiel just let him sleep, pretending not to be enthralled with the slow rise and fall of his chest and the peaceful calm on his face. 

When the movie finally ended he quietly shifted off the couch, throwing away their trash and clicking the TV off. Without the light from the screen, it was even darker than before. Castiel carefully shifted Dean’s feet up onto the couch to make him more comfortable, not sure if it was proper etiquette to wake him up but fairly sure that Dean could use the sleep. 

Once he was situated Castiel knelt down by Dean’s head, poking his arm gently. 

“Dean,” he whispered. He wanted to at least rouse him a little bit, just to let him know that he was going to bed. 

“Mornin’ angel,” Dean mumbled, barely cracking one eye open. 

Castiel raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, not entirely sure where _that_ one came from. 

“You have a penchant for nicknames. Did you know that?”

“Your name,” Dean smiled, sighing heavily. “Like the friggin’ Bible.”

Ah, that made sense. Sort of. Maybe.

“I’m going to sleep. You’re welcome to stay.”

“ ‘Kay,” Dean mumbled again, nestling down into the couch and closing his eyes. 

Castiel felt his lips twitch up, forcing himself up and into his own bed. Maybe he would wake up in the morning and make them coffee. 

Yeah, coffee sounded nice.

***

When Castiel woke up in the morning, Dean was gone. So he made his own small pot of coffee, and tried not to be disappointed. He didn’t have to be at class quite yet, so he curled up on the couch and clicked on the morning news, only half interested in what it had to say. Eventually he forced himself to get dressed, to gather up his stuff and head out the door for class.

Castiel put his hand on his doorknob, only then noticing a small note taped to the wood. 

_Cas—_

_Had to get home. Thanks for letting me crash. Episode V and VI are in your future. Text/call when you want to meet_

_Dean_

At the bottom was a scribbled phone number, the messy handwriting almost illegible. Dean’s writing _would_ be chicken-scratch. He thought about sending him a text before he went to class, but he didn’t really know what to say. He had to get this film developed first, and then he would decide what to do. 

The walk to campus was as long as ever, the sun beating down on Castiel’s back. It was way too hot for this time of year, and Castiel felt himself wishing that the heat would just break already so he could put on a damn sweater. 

He was crossing the quad, almost to class, when he heard someone calling out his name. 

“Cas! Castiel! Get over here!”

He spun around, spotting the source of the voice behind him to his left, sprawled out on the grass with a handful of other people. He rolled his eyes and strolled over, Dean’s note heavy in his pocket. 

“Do you even go here?” Castiel asked, noticing the brunette girl from the other night sitting at his side. 

“He doesn’t,” the girl smiled, looking even more beautiful and damn her for being gorgeous. “He likes to follow me around.”

She fluttered her eyelashes at Dean, and Castiel just watched as his gaze trailed lazily over her body. Then he was looking at Castiel, a flirty little smile on his face. 

“She wishes. I dropped my brother off this morning. Had one of his books in my trunk that he needed, so I said I’d bring him.”

He nodded just slightly, and Castiel realized the explanation was for him. So that was why Dean had left so early that morning. 

“And now you’re bothering actual students?”

“Absolutely,” Dean grinned, and then he actually freaking _winked._ Goddamn. “Hey by the way, Lisa here is having a party tonight. You coming?”

The brunette girl smiled, so Castiel assumed she must be Lisa. 

“It’s going to be hella fun. You should totally come.”

Castiel hesitated. Parties weren’t exactly his scene. And he really needed to get this film developed. But…

“Can I bring Anna?” he adjusted his glasses, scrunching up his nose a little bit. 

“Sure.”

“I’ll try to make it.”

Dean laughed, and Castiel wasn’t sure if it was at him or with him. 

He headed off to class shortly after that, shooting a quick text to Anna. 

**Castiel:** _we’re going to a party tonight. dont say no_

 **Anna:** _a party?! you?! where?!_

 **Castiel:** _dean invited me_

 **Anna:** _hot portrait guy? im so in_

Castiel smiled, relieved that he could always rely on Anna to encourage his self-destructive behavior. 

Self-destructive, of course, because Dean was without a doubt straight, and Castiel was about to spend the evening watching Dean paw at Lisa only to end up annoyed at himself because for some reason this stupid guy was getting under his skin.

But whatever. At least Anna would be there with him. 

The day dragged by, and Castiel honestly didn’t think it could’ve gone any slower. He spent a little time in the darkroom getting his film developed, but didn’t actually print any pictures. He was too restless for that. When Anna was done with class he met up with her, the two of them walking back to his place so he could change before they went to hers. 

“How did this even happen?” Anna asked as they entered his apartment, heading straight for his room and starting to dig through his closet. 

“Honestly, no idea,” Castiel sighed, and it wasn’t a lie. He’d caught her up on the events of the past 24-hours on the walk, but he was still pretty confused himself. “He just, invited me.”

“Well then, you have to look irresistible tonight.”

Castiel sighed, flopping down on his bed. Anna was absolutely incorrigible. 

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Do you want this guy or not? And don’t lie.”

Castiel just chose not to answer, which seemed to be answer enough for her. 

“That’s what I thought.”

She hummed happily while she flipped through his clothes, determined to find something appealing in his less-than-stellar wardrobe. She ended up picking out a jean button up, sleeves rolled up above his elbows, and light brown khaki-ish pants. They weren’t his favorite, but they were definitely flattering. He pulled on his sort of dirty white converse and looked himself over, mostly pleased with the outcome. 

“Well _I_ would sleep with you,” Anna grinned, a teasing tone in her voice. 

“Ew.”

“C’mon, asshole,” she laughed, bounding out the door. “It’s my turn now.”

The walk to Anna’s house was long, and the process for her to pick out her outfit took even longer. By the time she was dressed and had her hair and make-up done, it was getting close to 11pm. Castiel wanted to leave, but Anna insisted that they wait. 

“Make him a little nervous, you know? Like you might not show up.”

“Fine,” Castiel sighed, trying to trust her. He rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, resettling them on his nose. In reality all she was really doing was making him nervous for a night that was sure to be uneventful, but still. “I think I’m far too sober.”

Anna practically screamed with delight, bouncing up and down excitedly. 

“I have waited my whole life to hear you say that.”

She snatched some shot glasses out of her cupboard, and a few pours later Castiel was feeling much more prepared if not a bit less steady on his feet. 

“Feel better now?”

“Much. Shall we?” 

He offered her his arm, letting his lips turn up into a smile. She grinned back, looking absolutely beautiful in her tight black jeans and a loose, cropped, striped t-shirt. 

“We shall.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, Dean? Did you need something?”
> 
> “Frien’s or not, you’re gonna watch five and six. Got it?”
> 
> Castiel rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience darlings, and I hope you enjoy it :)

The party was loud and overwhelming, and Castiel already felt out of place. 

“Anna, what am I doing here?”

“Meeting a hot boy. Now suck it up.”

Anna practically dragged him inside, pulling him through the crowds of people in the entryway. The party was being held in a gigantic house, wood floors and crown moldings and expensive looking furniture that had wasted college kids draped all over it. Castiel sort of subconsciously scanned the crowd for light-brown hair, trying not to look too obvious. 

“Oh my god!” he heard a high pitch squeal, manicured fingers grabbing his arm and spinning him around forcefully. 

He came face to face with a very drunk Lisa, her cheeks flushed and a huge smile on her face. Castiel had no idea why exactly she was so happy to see him, but he felt like it might be rude not to at least try to reciprocate. 

“Hello, Lisa.”

He heard Anna stifle a laugh next to him, and he shot her a quick glare from the corner of his eye. 

“Oh my god, Cassiel,” she slurred the letters together, and he had to stifle a laugh that time. “He totally thought you weren’t coming. I told him though I told him, I said _Deanie poo don’t drink too much your Cassiel is coming…”_

 _His Castiel?_ he thought to himself, tilting his head and fixing his glasses. _What the hell?_

Lisa burst out in a fit of giggles clearly unable to keep speaking. Instead she just clapped her hands on her cheeks and bounced away, leaving Castiel completely and utterly confused. He turned to Anna, who was still dying of laughter. 

“Cassiel! Oh my god Cassiel!” she used a fake high-pitched voice, and Castiel tried very hard not to laugh. 

“Don’t be rude, Anna.”

“And I don’t want to say I told you so, but I _told you_ we should show up late. Was I not right?”

“Whatever.”

“He was _waiting for you._ Come _on_ Castiel, that has to mean something.”

It felt like it meant something. But that was impossible. So he brushed it off. 

It turned out that finding Dean Winchester in a packed party in a gigantic house was not nearly as difficult as it sounded. Because Dean, of course, was right smack dab in the middle of it. 

The ground floor of the house was built around a large open-concept living room that flowed seamlessly into the biggest kitchen Cas had ever seen. On the wall was a gigantic TV which looked like it was made up of about 47 of Castiel’s tiny one. There was music blaring from the speakers, music videos of mostly half-naked girls playing on the screen. 

This _was_ Beverly Hills, so he probably shouldn’t have expected anything less. 

In the middle of the room was a huge, plush couch, and in the corner of it was Dean sitting with his arm draped over a little blonde in tight jeans and combat boots who Castiel thought could definitely hand him an ass-kicking. Dean had his nose buried in her hair, whispering in her ear and holding her close while the girl laughed and tried to squirm away. 

“Have fun,” Anna winked at him and disappeared, leaving Castiel alone in the crowd. 

He had two options. Stand there and stare like a stalker, or go over and interrupt the snuggle-fest. Neither sounded that great. 

He eventually wandered over to the couch, using the toe of his shoe to poke the blonde girl’s leg. 

“Do you need help?”

They both paused, and Dean glanced up to catch his eye. There was a blank look on his face for a second before a huge, dopey grin spread across it. 

“Skinny dude!”

Castiel rolled his eyes and buried his hands in his pockets, feeling self-conscious under Dean’s gaze. The blonde girl used the distraction to climb out of Dean’s grasp, standing up and moving away from the couch. 

“God, _thank you,”_ she patted Castiel’s arm, tossing Dean a glare and stomping away. 

“Later, Joanna Beth!” Dean called, grinning after her. 

Castiel stood there awkwardly, not really sure what to do. Dean lazily turned his gaze back towards him, patting the couch next to him. 

“Wanna sit?”

“Sure.”

Castiel sat down awkwardly, his back too straight and his muscles too stiff. 

“You can relax,” Dean mumbled, dropping an arm across Castiel’s shoulders. He shivered at the contact, noticing that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “I don’t bite.”

Castiel felt himself relax a little bit, leaning back into the cushions and settling himself under Dean’s arm. He slowly turned to face him, very suddenly aware of the mere centimeter’s between them. 

“Hiya, angel,” Dean mumbled, looking serious. 

Castiel rolled his eyes at the nickname, still not sure if he liked it. The gesture made Dean smile, a small one that softened his face. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Didn’ think you were comin’.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if that was just a fact, or an explanation for his state of inebriation. 

“Lisa told me.”

He seemed to think very hard about this, nodding his head seriously. 

“Lisa’s cool. I like Lisa. D’you like Lisa?”

“I suppose,” Castiel smiled, amused by Dean’s sudden seriousness. “I don’t really know her.”

“I know her. We go way back. She’s a yoga teacher. Know what that means?”

He used the hand that was hanging over Castiel’s shoulder to ruffle his already mussed hair, making Castiel reach up in an effort to swat his hand away. 

“Stop it. What does that mean?”

“One word,” Dean threw on that flirty smile of his and Castiel found himself smiling back automatically, even though he most definitely didn’t want to. _“Bendy.”_

Castiel rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses, tearing his gaze away from that stupid grin. Dean _I’m-very-straight_ Winchester strikes again. He wanted to stand up and walk away, find Anna maybe, but he had no idea where she was. And in this gigantic house, the likelihood of him finding her was slim to none. 

“You two make a great couple. Or, whatever you are.”

Dean laughed at this, and Castiel wasn’t really sure what he had said that was so funny. 

“She’d fuckin’ kill you if she heard that, dude. We’re jus’ friends. Used to hook up, but that was, like, _decades ago.”_

“Oh.”

Castiel took a moment to process this information. So Dean and Lisa weren’t together. But what about the blonde? The J name…Joanna? She didn’t seem like a girlfriend. More like a sister. 

_He’s super straight,_ he reminded himself, chanting it like a mantra in his head. _He’s super straight._

“So. Cas. When’s our next shoot?”

Castiel hummed and shrugged, staring down at his hands. 

“I thought I would wait until Sunday. Perhaps give you a day off?”

Dean seemed to consider this, like it hadn’t really occurred to him before. He ran a hand through his hair, his green eyes staring off at something far far away. 

“I ‘ad the day off today.”

“True. In any case, I need to develop the film we have already before continuing to shoot.”

“Le’s jus’ hang out, then.”

Cas blinked at him, caught off guard by the request. Dean wanted to hang out? Not staying over after a shoot, actually, properly hanging out. And, because Castiel apparently lacked any social graces whatsoever, he spat out the first words that came to mind. 

“And why would we do that? It’s not like we’re friends.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, leaning back away from Castiel and lifting his arm off his shoulders, settling it instead on the back of the couch. 

“Ouch, dude,” he laughed, sounding a little bit forced. “I just—”

“Hey, jerk,” a voiced interrupted, apparently belonging to the floppy haired, lanky freshman that plopped down on the couch on Castiel’s other side. He had a goofy grin on his face, and Castiel was distinctly reminded of a really tall puppy. 

“What up, lil’ bitch,” Dean smiled back. “Cas, this is my little brother, Sammy. Sammy, Cas.”

Castiel twisted his body to look at the other boy, adjusting his glasses and giving an awkward little flap of his hand that maybe was supposed to be a wave. 

“Sam,” he corrected, glaring at Dean. “I’m not a chubby twelve-year-old anymore. Nice to meet you, Cas.”

“You too, Sam. You go to school here?”

“Yeah,” he grinned again, and Castiel got the feeling that Sam must be a pretty happy guy. “Business and pre-law.”

“And when he’s a hot shot lawyer he’s gonna buy his awesome brother expensive parts for his baby and…”

The two of them got to talking, and Castiel mostly just sat in the middle and listened. The banter was hard to keep up with, and they kept talking about people and places that Castiel didn’t know. Still, it was amusing to see this side of Dean. The more time Castiel spent with him, the more dimensions he saw. Dean wasn’t just some dumb mechanic, or a cocky douchebag, or some beautiful heartbreaker. He was, arguably, all of these things, and also none of them. 

“Yo, earth to Cas, you with us?”

Castiel snapped out of his reverie, noticing for the first time that Dean and Sam had stopped talking, and he was definitely staring at Dean. 

And Dean, he was staring right back. His cocky grin slowly faded, and Castiel almost whined when his gaze dropped slowly to Castiel’s lips before flicking back up to meet his eyes. 

“And I think that’s my cue to leave,” Sam laughed, clapping Castiel on the shoulder before shifting off the couch and walking away. 

Castiel was thankful for the interruption, just barely able to tear his gaze away. 

“Hey, Cas, I—”

“Dean-o!” 

Another interruption. Dean sighed heavily, and Castiel resolutely refused to glance over to see whether or not there was a trace of disappointment in his eyes.

The three guys that walked up to them were what Castiel could only describe as your stereotypical high school jocks: college edition. Broad shouldered, short haired, thickly muscled, carrying themselves with the sort of confidence that said _I’m better than you._

Castiel was generally annoyed by these types of guys, since they mostly proved to be dull and overflowing with testosterone. They didn’t really take well to Castiel either, with his slimmer frame, thick glasses and codependent relationship with his camera that made him ripe for bullying. 

He tried not to roll his eyes as they strolled over, and he tried not to be disappointed that Dean appeared to be one of them. 

“What up, brother,” one of them drawled, a southern accent peaking out. He clapped one of Dean’s hands between two of his own, his eyes barely flicking over to Castiel. “Why you been hidin’ in here?”

Dean grinned and held out his arms, gesturing at the packed room around him. 

“Who’s hidin’?”

“So what, hanging out with your pet nerd?” another guy laughed, gesturing at Castiel but barely sparing him a glance. “Does it do tricks?”

Castiel glared at him, all too familiar with this kind of teasing. Fuck them and their stupid asshole comments. This wasn’t high school anymore, and he certainly didn’t need this shit. 

“I’m not his pet,” Castiel growled, finally getting the three of them to look at him. The two that had spoken looked pleasantly surprised, like they hadn’t expected him to retaliate but were glad he had. The third, his gaze almost made all of the blood rush out of Castiel’s face. He had his arms crossed, not a trace of a smile on his lips. He was glaring at Castiel like he was something dirty, something to be disposed of. 

“Looks like it definitely bites,” the first one laughed, shoving the second one’s shoulder. 

“C’mon guys,” Dean interjected, his voice barely breaking through to Castiel’s brain. “Don’ be assholes.”

The two sort of groaned and laughed, but the third looked stoic as ever. 

“Cas,” Dean fixed his eyes on him, gesturing to the other guys. “This’s Benny, Victor, an’ Gordon. The three assholes. Guys, this is Cas.”

They all barely acknowledged him, just sort of nodding and staring down at their drinks, whispering and laughing. Perfect. 

“Well, I should go,” Castiel sighed, getting more and more annoyed by their behavior by the second. Of course, then Dean had to go and look sad about it. 

“Now?”

“I should find Anna, anyway.”

He stood up, starting to walk away until he felt something tug him back. He turned around, glancing suspiciously down at Dean who had a finger hooked around Castiel’s belt loop. He raised an eyebrow, trying valiantly not to smile while Dean stared up at him with that stupid, flirty grin of his. 

“Yes, Dean? Did you need something?”

“Frien’s or not, you’re gonna watch five and six. Got it?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

He reached down and unhooked Dean’s finger, letting his hand drop down to his lap. Then he turned around to leave, ignoring the unhappy expressions of Dean’s friends. He was thankful to be out from under their stares, and away from the nervous way Dean rubbed the back of his neck as Castiel turned away. 

It wasn’t like it meant anything anyway. 

Finding Anna was a huge hassle, and he actually found Meg first. She was bickering with some dark haired, accented guy that Castiel didn’t know, which honestly didn’t much surprise him. She detained him for a couple of minutes with her arm coiled around his waist, blabbering drunkenly about something that Castiel couldn’t bring himself to listen to or care about. 

He managed to slip away after a few more minutes, continuing in his struggle to find Anna. He felt like his batteries were being drained by the party, and he desperately needed a recharge. He ended up having to text her, which was ridiculous considering they were inside the same house but whatever. 

**Castiel:** _where are you? want to get home._

 **Anna:** _party pooper. backyard_

 **Castiel:** _there’s a backyard?_

It took him a couple more minutes to find said backyard, and his search included a walk through the living room where Dean had been stationed. He wasn’t there anymore, and Castiel absently wondered if he had left already with some girl. 

The backyard was equally as huge and beautiful as Castiel expected it to be, twinkle lights strung up between trees and a huge, squiggly shaped pool. Anna was sitting on the side of the pool next to a blonde girl, her legs stretched out in front of her. 

“There you are,” Castiel sunk down to the ground, sitting just slightly behind Anna. The blonde turned around, and he recognized her as Dean’s friend from earlier. “Oh, you’re Joanna, right?”

She made a motion like she was vomiting, making Anna giggle. 

“God, no. Call me Jo. You’re Cas?”

“Castiel.”

“That’s a mouthful. I can see why Dean shortens it.”

He refrained from asking, even though his mouth wanted to. 

“I suppose. Cas is okay, just not ‘skinny dude’.” 

“You got it, dude,” Jo laughed, gathering up her blonde hair and settling it on one shoulder. 

“I think I like skinny dude better,” Anna smiled, poking his side. “It’s accurate.”

“Is that so? Then I guess I’ll have to call you super ginger.”

“Don’t you dare,” she glared at him, fake pouting. 

Castiel laughed and looked around the backyard, taking in the setting around him. That’s when he spotted Dean in the back corner, boxed in by his three friends and looking angry and defensive. Castiel watched for a couple of minutes, watching Dean’s expression growing darker and darker, his arms crossed across his broad chest, his friends getting in his face and shoving his shoulders. It didn’t look friendly, but Dean seemed to be holding his own. 

“Castiel? You ready to go?”

He tore his gaze away to focus back on Anna. 

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

***

Castiel rolled out of bed around noon the next day. The sun was already shining, and he felt sort of sticky and too warm under his comforter. He stared around his room for a minute, enjoying the blurriness of the space around him before putting his glasses on. When he finally managed to drag himself out of bed, he made some coffee and set off for the dark room.

Saturdays were one of his favorite days to be there. It was always quiet, empty, peaceful. And he had a lot of pictures to develop. 

The trek was as long as ever, and he felt sort of damp with sweat by the time he got there. The darkroom was nice and cool though, so that helped. 

He was glad the two rolls of film were already developed, because Castiel found himself once again getting excited to make the prints. He hadn’t planned on making nice, well-done prints until he woke up this morning, but…well it wouldn’t hurt. 

The first roll he worked on was the set of hands. He was pleased with it, overall, loving the smudges of motor oil and grease that stood out against Dean’s skin. There were plenty of pictures to choose from for his project, and a few that were entirely useless. 

Those were his favorite. 

He didn’t make prints for the entire roll like he had done for the prelim shoot, but he enjoyed himself all the same. 

His absolute favorite was a picture more of Dean’s neck and shoulder, his face partially out of frame and his dirty hand rubbing the back of his neck. It was beautiful, really. And useless. 

Completely useless. 

He loved it. 

Castiel had no idea how long he was in the darkroom. As usual. It was so easy to get lost in time in there, especially with no other people around and his phone in the other room with the rest of his stuff. It was just him and his pictures. 

That is, until he heard somebody else open the darkroom door. 

_What the hell?_ he thought to himself. No one ever came here on Saturdays, no one except him. So who was here now? 

He tried to focus his attention on his enlarger, ignoring the presence of another person behind him. They were probably just another student, wanting to work in the quiet just like him. They could coexist. 

He thought that, right up until he saw, out of the corner of his eye, this other person walk over to his drying prints and start _touching them._

“Excuse me,” he whirled around. “What do you think you’re—”

He froze, the figure all too familiar even in the darkness. 

“Dean?” 

“Hey, Cas.”

His voice sounded far away, sort of awed and quiet. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Anna said you’d be here. Did you…did you make these?”

Dean turned around to face him, their eyes meeting. He looked off-balance, like for the first time he wasn't really sure what to say. 

“Yeah. I did.”

Castiel closed the space between them, standing next to Dean and admiring his prints. They were sort of incriminating, and Castiel only hoped that Dean didn’t know how long they took to make. 

“They’re uh, they’re real good.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean, they’re pictures of me. So that helps.”

“Your overwhelming humility is astounding.”

Castiel heard Dean laugh quietly beside him, his nervousness seemingly broken. 

“You make me look like I know what I’m doing.”

“As is the skill of the photographer, I suppose.”

“Who’s humble now?”

“Touché,” Castiel smiled, despite himself. 

He glanced sideways at Dean, only to catch him already staring right back. 

“Did you need something?”

“Nah,” he grinned, his green eyes bright. “Just thought I’d see if you wanted to get some work done today, maybe watch episode five.”

“You didn’t want your day off?”

“Got nothing better to do,” Dean shrugged. 

Castiel considered this for a moment. He wouldn’t get to make any prints from the next roll of film, but maybe that was okay. 

“Sure. Can I finish this?”

He gestured at the enlarger, at the print he was currently in the process of making. 

“That depends. Can I watch?”

“I assure you, it’s not that exciting.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Dean strolled over to the enlarger, leaning his hip against the counter next to it. Castiel just sighed and continued his work, adjusting the zoom and focus, testing a couple of filters. Dean was quiet the entire time, which Castiel felt distinctly surprised about considering his penchant for chatter. It took about twenty more minutes for him to prepare, then he blasted the emulsion paper and set about developing it. 

As he slipped the paper into the developer, Dean finally spoke. 

“All that for one picture?”

Castiel blushed, and he was glad for the darkness. 

“Do you spend that much time on all of your pictures?”

Castiel dragged the paper out of the developer, swirling it through the rinse bath before sliding it into the fixer. 

“Not all of them.”

There was a tension in the room, and Castiel tried to convince himself that he was making it up. Because he was. Definitely. He pulled the print out of the fixer, wiping off some excess water and hanging it on the clothes line. 

And when he moved, so did Dean. He was standing at Castiel’s side, _so close_ Castiel swore he could smell him. 

“Wow,” Dean murmured, almost like he hadn’t intended to say it out loud. 

Castiel pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced over at him again; in hindsight, he really should have learned his lesson the first time. Their eyes met, and Castiel was helpless to look away. Dean licked his lips slowly, his gaze dropping, for the second time in two days, down to Castiel’s lips. Castiel licked his lips instinctively, watching Dean’s pupil’s dilate just slightly at the movement. 

There was definitely, definitely tension between them. Without a doubt. Stifling, thick, tangible tension. 

It felt like they were isolated, safe, like anything could happen in this room and it wouldn’t matter. Castiel was itching to close the space between them, just once, just to try and…

_He’s super straight. He’s super straight._

“Should we…?”

Castiel gestured towards the door, needing to escape the suffocating air of the room. 

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Yeah let’s go.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh,” Dean stared down at his hands, their heat burning through to Castiel’s skin. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god look I updated in under a week! What a miracle. Wowe.

Castiel had never actually seen Dean’s car before, but he should have expected it to be entirely ostentatious. It was black and shiny, and by all rights deserved to be called at boat instead of a car. It sank low to the ground, a heavy metal bumper that Castiel was sure could plow through just about anything. 

_“This_ is what you drive?”

“Cas, meet my baby. Baby, meet Cas.”

He held out his arms, a stupid grin on his face like a proud parent. Castiel raised his eyebrows, trying not to crack a smile at Dean referring to his car like it was a person. 

“What an honor,” Castiel said dryly, patting the top of the car lightly with his fingers. 

“I’m glad you appreciate the hugeness of this moment. Our friendship can continue.”

Dean slipped into the car and Castiel followed his lead, caught off guard again by how freaking _huge_ it was on the inside. 

“You say that like we have a friendship to continue,” Castiel mumbled sort of distractedly as he looked around the car, and yeah, sure, maybe he could’ve been more clear about the fact that he was joking, but whatever. 

“Ya know, Cas, you’re really starting to hurt my feelings,” Dean pretended to pout, placing a hand over his heart. 

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh that time, the puppy-dog look in his eyes just too ridiculous. 

“Right, Dean, because you’re so fragile.”

“Hey hey hey,” Dean grinned at him, flirty and absolutely life-ruining, his other hand reaching up to put the keys in the ignition. “My mom always said I’m just sensitive.”

And then he _winked_ fucking _again,_ and Castiel really needed to get ahold of this stupid crush. 

_Shit. No. No crush. There is no crush. He’s just…good-looking. No crush._

Dean turned the keys in the ignition, and Castiel almost jumped out of his skin from the sound. The car quite literally _roared_ to life, rumbling all around him like a snarling animal. Then there was the music, heavy rock music that Castiel was sure wasn’t even from this century. 

He turned to make a comment, something about the complete ridiculousness of the entire thing, but Dean was smiling and singing along to whatever song was playing, drumming his hands on the steering wheel, so Castiel kept his mouth shut. His fingers were itching to pick up his camera and snap a few shots, but he didn’t even have it on him that day. Of course, the one day he didn’t have it hanging around his neck. 

Plus, that was probably weird. Right? Yeah. Definitely weird. 

“Tell me, Cas. Aerosmith, yay or nay?” he reached forward and turned a dial on the dash, the volume of the music lowering a couple of notches. “You seem like the ballad rock kind of guy.”

“Well, Dean, I’m not sure,” Dean laughed and smiled at him and Castiel purposefully kept a straight face, like he was considering the question. “I don’t have any idea what ballad rock is, so I’m not sure I can really answer the question.”

The smile abruptly dropped off of Dean’s face, and he groaned loudly. 

“Dude,” he dragged out the word dramatically, and Castiel finally let himself laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me. My gravestone is going to read _Here lies Dean, kind soul that he was…”_

“Kind soul? A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“It’s a gravestone. It’s supposed to be dramatic,” he cleared his throat, reigning in a smile before he continued. _“…kind soul that he was, died of sadness on this…”_

He gestured at Castiel with the hand that wasn’t on the wheel, clearly looking for some kind of prompt. 

“Uh, beautiful autumn day?” Dean just shook his head and moved his hand, looking for something else. “Uh…fourth day of October?”

“Yes!” he snapped his fingers, grinning again. _“On this fourth day of October, because Castiel Novak didn’t know a damn thing about Star Wars or rock and roll.”_

“I’m not sure that you’re supposed to curse or use conjunctions on a gravestone,” Castiel laughed. “But other than that, it’s quite good.”

He glanced over at Dean who, _again,_ was staring straight at him, his lips parted and a small smile tugging on his lips. Their eyes were fixed on one another for a couple of seconds, far to long for it to be accidental. And yet, Castiel didn’t want to look away. 

“Dean, look at the road please before you kill us.”

Dean lazily turned is head back to the road, and Castiel felt his heart slow down now that those green eyes weren’t staring straight at him. 

They, very thankfully, reached Castiel’s apartment no more than a minute or two later. The car was starting to feel too small, which was completely ridiculous considering how huge it actually was. Castiel climbed the stairs up to his apartment first, all too aware of Dean’s eyes on his back but doing his best to ignore the feeling. 

“Hey, how did you get a hold of Anna anyway?” Castiel asked as they walked up the stairs, remembering Dean’s comment from earlier. He knew Anna had sold him out, he just wasn’t sure how Dean had weaseled it out of her. Although, in fairness, it probably hadn’t been that hard. 

“Jo. The two of them hit it off last night, I guess.”

Castiel just nodded. He liked Jo. She was sassy, like Anna, probably even more so.

“Since you’re here,” he started when they got into the house, depositing his stuff in the living room. “Would you mind doing a quick shoot before a movie?”

They did sort of need to get some work done. They only really had a week left, and that wasn’t a lot of time especially considering Dean’s work schedule. So that was part of the reason he wanted to get some pictures done today. The other part of him was dying to get behind his camera again, to get Dean in front of his lens so he could really _look_ at him. As an artist, as a photographer. He could stare at every imperfection, every freckle, could count them if he wanted to. He was safe behind his camera. Because he was the photographer, and Dean was his art, and it was okay to think he was really, really beautiful. In like, a not weird way.

But right now, standing in his living room, hands in his pockets and trying not to stare, it was definitely _not_ okay. 

“Sure thing. What are we doing today?”

“We could do facial close-ups, or redo upper back and shoulders with your shirt on. I wanted to have long-sleeves for that, but if you prefer.”

Dean glanced down at his t-shirt and loose flannel, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Close-ups it is.”

They wandered into the studio, and Dean slipped off his flannel and sat on the ground while Castiel loaded film and prepped his camera. When he was ready he sat down in front of Dean, crossing his legs and trying not to let their knees touch. 

“Okay. So. I’ll be in your space more than usual today, so try not to be bothered by it.”

Dean huffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sure. Got it.”

“And remember, don’t look directly into the lens. The sides, above or below. Not straight into the lens, until I tell you otherwise. Got it?”

Dean nodded, so Castiel quickly pushed his glasses up his nose and raised the camera to his eye. He already felt better, like this small something between him and Dean’s gaze would protect him from his stupid, traitorous mind. 

Dean was staring down at his lap, fiddling with his hands or something Castiel couldn’t see.

“Dean,” he said softly. “Look up.”

Dean’s gaze slowly lifted, his eyes catching the lens through the shade of his eyelashes. 

_God they’re so long,_ Castiel thought to himself. He snapped a picture, just barely catching it before Dean lifted his head and rolled his shoulders back so he could sit at his full height. Sitting down he wasn’t that much taller than Castiel was, so it worked out quite nicely. 

“Should I smile or somethin’?” he asked quietly, tilting his head just slightly. Castiel snapped a picture. 

“If you want. Nothing huge or cheesy or fake.”

Dean laughed at that, a smile spreading across his face. Castiel took a picture. 

“You got it, boss.”

Dean was quiet for a minute or two after that, tilting his face in different directions at different angles. Castiel shifted his camera to one hand, holding his hand up above his head. 

“Look at my hand.”

Dean’s eyes darted down, tracing their way up Castiel’s side until they reached his hand. He felt a shiver run through his body, and he couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that Dean could make him feel so exposed just with his eyes. 

_Shit shit shit._

Dean stared up at his hand, the light hitting his face and sparkling in his eyes. He licked his lips slowly, leaving them parted just slightly. Castiel felt like he was panting. 

“Okay, um,” he croaked, his voice feeling dry and weak. He cleared his throat, begging it not to sound so desperate. “Almost done. These last couple, just look straight into the lens. Smile, straight face, whatever you want. You just have to feel comfortable.”

He nodded, stretching his neck from side to side before fixing his gaze on the lens. He had a straight face, and he didn’t look _bad_ by any means, but he didn’t look right. 

“Dean, you look awkward. Relax. You’ve been in front of this camera all week and you’ve been fine.”

“Yeah sure, in front of the camera,” he grumbled, looking unhappy. “Not with the camera shoved in my friggin’ face and staring it straight down.”

Castiel sighed and lowered the camera just slightly, taking the moment to fix his glasses again. 

“Dean. It’s just me behind the camera. You’re just looking at me. We look at each other all the time.”

_More like you stare at me and I stare right back._

Dean smiled, nodding again. “Okay. Lemme try again.”

He stared straight into the camera, or maybe it was more accurate to say that he stared through it. Because he wasn't looking at a camera lens. He was looking at Castiel. There was an intensity in his eyes, burning green. 

“Better,” Castiel hummed, snapping another picture. 

Dean maintained a straight face for one more picture before his face cracked into a soft smile. It was quiet and genuine, so unlike the others that Castiel was used to seeing. It made his chest clench, and something inside of him warmed.

Castiel inched forward just a bit, straightening his back and trying to adjust his angle slightly. _There. Better._

Except now his crossed knees were resting on top of Dean’s. 

_Shit shit shit._

Dean’s eyes flicked down to his legs before coming back up to the lens. The smile slipped off his face, replaced by a far more heated look. And if Castiel thought that he might escape this moment only having to endure that look alone, he was terribly wrong. 

Because Dean didn’t just stare at him. He reached up and took the camera out of Castiel’s hands, setting it on the ground next to him. The air between them was heavy, overflowing with unspoken words. 

“Cas?”

“Oh, sorry, let me just—”

Castiel tried to move back, to put some space between them, but Dean stopped him. He placed his hands on the outsides of Castiel’s thighs, higher up closer to his hips, his fingers gripping the fabric of his pants and holding him in place. 

It happened in a split second, and Dean looked just as surprised as Castiel did to find his hands on the other boy’s thighs. 

“Uh,” Dean stared down at his hands, their heat burning through to Castiel’s skin. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, moving Dean’s hands off of his legs and scooting away. He wasn’t really sure what just happened, but he really _really_ didn't want to think about it. 

“So, uh, anyway. Movie?” Castiel stood up and grabbed his camera, not bothering to finish the roll. He had enough. 

Dean ran his hands through his hair, frustration peeking through his posture for a second before he seemed to catch himself. Then he just grinned up at Castiel, his normal cocky smile back in place. 

“Let’s go, Chewie. The education continues.”

Castiel had a very good plan to situate himself at the far end of the couch, no accidental touching involved. It was perfect, until Dean decided to sit smack dab in the middle of the couch, his feet planted wide in front of him and both arms resting on the back of the couch. He even dropped his head back to rest on the cushions, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling with a heavy sigh. 

This insane, _almost_ overwhelming desire flooded Castiel’s brain, and he could vividly picture himself climbing onto Dean’s lap, knees straddling his thighs, seeing if he still smelled like leather and car grease up close, tasting his freckled skin—

_Pause. Focus. No tasting, no smelling, no lap-sitting. None of that._

So he set up the movie and curled up on the couch, crossing his feet underneath him and adjusting his glasses on his nose. His knee was resting on Dean’s thigh, but whatever. 

And he definitely did not think about the spot where their skin was touching all night long. Definitely not. 

The movie sort of passed by in a blur. The hero lost his friends, then he went and saved them. Well, mostly. One of them got stuck in a rock, or something. Dean tried to explain the process, but Castiel wasn’t invested enough to care that much. Then there was a big fight, and the epic villain reveal, and the hero got his hand cut off which was very unfortunate for him but he did get a new one. 

Dean got particularly excited during that fight scene, imitating the _whoosh_ sounds of the lightsabers and singing along to the dramatic music. Again. 

_“Dun dun dun, dun, dun dun, dun, dun dun,”_ he sang quietly, eyes fixed on the screen. 

“Dean, you’re singing along again,” Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“Shh. Listen. _Dun dun dun, dun, dun dun, dun, dun dun.”_

It was annoying, for sure. And it was also sort of, not annoying. Which was worse. 

“I’m trying, but it’s hard to hear over your singing.”

Dean chuckled, and promptly continued his sound effects. 

Overall, he liked it. He liked the childish joy on Dean’s face, he liked the way he quoted almost every line and almost had them correct most of the time. He liked the way Dean would explain things without Castiel having to ask, because yeah, there was a lot going on. He loved the way Dean got all pissed off when Castiel _wasn’t_ surprised that Darth Vader was Luke’s father. 

“Cas, dude, how in the hell did you already know that?”

“I’ve heard the quote. _I am your father,”_ he quoted dramatically, dropping his voice an octave even lower. Dean laughed. “And, well, it’s sort of obvious.”

“Obvious?” Dean said incredulously, his eyebrows raised. 

“Yes,” Castiel’s lips twitched up, but he refused to make eye contact with Dean for more than a second or two. 

“Uh huh. Please, go on.”

“I mean, why else would his dad matter? Why would they bring him up?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, wise guy. Watch the damn movie.”

When Castiel was sure that Dean’s attention was focused back on the screen he allowed himself to peek over at him, the light from the TV flickering across his features. 

Yeah, he liked the movie. 

But then it was over, far too soon, and Dean didn’t have any reason to stay later. Castiel sort of wished he would, but there was no way to ask for that without sounding weird. So he walked Dean to the door, and tried not to be disappointed when it closed behind him.

***

Castiel texted Dean on Sunday, after much deliberation. He almost didn’t end up sending it, but this was for his project. All in the name of the project.

 **Castiel:** _you free today? would love to get some work done._

 **Dean:** _ill assume this is Cas. cant today, got work and dinner with Sammy_

 **Castiel:** _how’s Monday?_

 **Dean:** _off work at 4_

 **Castiel:** _see you then? and wear long sleeves, please._

 **Dean:** _sure thing._

Castiel felt a flutter in his stomach, which he squashed immediately. 

So of course, Sunday and Monday dragged by. He spent most of the day on Sunday curled up with a book, trying and failing to catch up on his reading for his lit course. It was boring as all hell, but he’d have to do it eventually. 

On Monday’s he only had one class, Politics of Modern Photography, in the morning. Once that was over he still had the majority of the day to kill, so he wandered over to the darkroom. It was busier than usual, four other people in there working on various projects, but that was okay. He couldn’t always have the place entirely to himself. 

Fortunately, one of the four people was Anna. He wandered over to where she was standing and bumped her with his hip, taking up residence at the enlarger next to her. 

“Hey,” she whispered, smiling at him. “How’s my bff?”

“Swell,” Castiel whispered back, retrieving his negatives from his bag. “What are you working on?”

He peeked over at her enlarger, spotting the face of who was presumably her olive-skinned freshman. 

“Portraits,” she mumbled, her attention focused back on her enlarger. Anna’s theme had something to do with different mediums of photography, so most likely this was her only film roll and these pictures might actually be used in her final product. 

So Castiel left her to her work, focusing on his own developing. 

Which turned out to be incredibly, _incredibly_ distracting. As hard as it had been to take the pictures of Dean’s bare back and shoulders, it was a whole different brand of torture to make prints. 

The freckles dusting the tops of his shoulders, hard lines of muscles wrapping around his arms, the flex of said muscles under his skin. Normally Castiel could handle a little bit of skin. Certainly Meg’s bare shoulders hadn’t made him pant like this. But these pictures felt downright _pornographic,_ and Castiel couldn’t help but think that he wished no one else could see them. He only wanted them to exist between him and Dean, no one else. 

He had no idea how long he stayed and worked in there. Time had a tendency to sort of melt away in the darkroom. It wasn’t until Anna suggested that they take a break and grab some food that he bothered to wonder what time it was. 

“It’s ten to four. And I haven’t eaten since 10, so I’m starved.”

“Ten to _four?”_

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Time flies, right?”

“Shit. I can’t. I have to get home.”

Anna whined, but she understood. Castiel gathered up his pictures, tossing them in a folder and not even bothering to shove them into his bag. He hurried out the door, staring down at his watch and silently cursing himself for being so late. 

Then he ran smack dab into a person that most definitely could’ve been mistaken for a brick wall. He dropped his folder of pictures on the ground and watched as several of them fell out, thankful that at least his camera was attached to his body. 

“Watch it, asshole,” a semi-familiar voice growled. 

Castiel glanced up, recognizing the person as one of Dean’s friends from the other night. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Dean’s pet nerd.”

Castiel just grit his teeth and knelt down to pick up his pictures, refusing to drop to that level. 

“My _name_ is Castiel. Gordon, right?”

He stood back up, slipping the escaped pictures back into the folder. Gordon’s eyes darted down, and Castiel wished he had been developing literally any other roll of film. 

“You taking nudey pics now?”

He crossed his arms, his chest puffing up and making him look even bigger. 

“They’re for a project.”

Gordon nodded skeptically, his expression still cold and distant. 

“Whatever. Be careful, though. Wouldn’t want someone to get the wrong idea,” he grinned, and it was so malicious it made Castiel shiver. “Later, fag.”

The whole interaction, unsurprisingly, left a sour taste in his mouth. It stuck around during his whole walk home, right up until he saw Dean sitting on the ground outside his front door. Then he promptly forgot about the entire interaction, focusing instead on this moment. 

Dean was wearing a light grey henley and dark jeans, the buttons on the top of his shirt parted enough to allow his skin to peek through. If Castiel didn't know better he might have said that Dean looked a little bit more put together than usual. But it was probably just the shirt. He grinned at Castiel as he walked up, cocky and unbearably flirty, as usual. 

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you have your own house? Your own brother to annoy?”
> 
> Dean laughed at that, not put off by Castiel’s grouchy tone in the slightest.
> 
> “Normally, yes. But Sammy is with his girl tonight, so I’m all yours.”
> 
> Castiel sighed, sliding his hands behind his glasses to rub his eyes.
> 
> “Is it too late to revoke your invitation?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm emotionally compromised after last night's S10 premiere, so here, have a chapter. I love you bbys ♥
> 
> also, rereading this I felt I should clarify that the way Dean describes his sexuality in this chapter is 100% not the way I view bisexuality. As an author, I don't think it's like some on/off switch of "I'm straight right now, maybe I'll be gay tomorrow" and I realize that it's far more complex than that. That being said, I DO think that Dean would simplify it down like that, at least for himself. So. There ya go.

“You’re late.”

Castiel just sighed and rolled his eyes, ignoring Dean’s comment. It took a second or two of jiggling the lock before he managed to pop the door open. He dropped his stuff in the living room and went straight into his studio, taking his camera off of his neck and loading it with film. Dean wandered in a couple of seconds later, sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around his knees.

“Straight to business, huh?”

Castiel just hummed in acknowledgement, fixing his glasses. He wasn’t in the mood for chatter.

“Okay then,” Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Should I turn around?”

“Please.”

Castiel situated himself behind Dean, careful to keep some space between them.

“This will be a lot like the last time we did shoulders. Just, do whatever feels natural to you.”

Dean nodded, and Castiel raised the camera to his eye.

The first thing Dean did was roll his shoulders back and crack his neck to both sides, dropping his head back and taking a deep breath.

_God damn it. So much for professional._

The grey shirt looked sinfully good stretched across his back and broad shoulders, the sleeves pushed up his forearms to just below his elbow. The thin fabric did nothing in the way of concealing the incredibly distracting form of Dean’s body, even when his skin _wasn’t_ showing. Castiel could see the knob of muscle on his shoulders, the strain of fabric on his biceps.

_No arms. Back and shoulders._

Castiel had assumed this shoot would be mostly the same, but there was something different about Dean’s movements. He seemed more reserved, less sure of himself. The overflowing confidence he seemed to always flaunt was startlingly absent. He didn’t flex his muscles or show off his body.

Well, he did, but not nearly as much.

At one point he wrapped his arms around himself, the fingers of one hand barely visible on his waist and the other on his shoulder, his fingers digging into his shoulder blade. There was a sort of tension to the posture that Castiel loved, like you could tell that Dean’s muscles were engaged and not relaxed. He dropped his head slightly, letting it rest on his arm. It was tilted to the side just so, and damn if Castiel didn’t want to wrap his limbs around him and never let go.

_Focus._

A few more snaps and the roll was empty, leaving Castiel to wind it up and replace it with a fresh one.

“Chair,” Castiel mumbled as he fiddled with the camera, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Yes sir, drill sergeant.”

Castiel could hear the teasing tone in Dean’s voice, but he ignored it.

“We’ll do legs, and arms, and then be done for today.”

Castiel turned around, pleased to see Dean sitting in the chair like a normal person and not straddling it like last time. He sat on the floor in front of him, wiggling for a second to get comfortable.

“So, this will be short. Not a lot to do with legs. Just sit how you normally sit.”

Castiel managed to snap a few pictures, Dean sitting with his feet planted wide, a couple with one leg crossed over the other, his heavy boot in focus closest to the camera.

“Hey, Cas?”

Castiel sighed and brought the camera down from his eye, adjusting his glasses.

“Yes, Dean.”

“Can I try something?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and waved his hand, running a few fingers through his hair. Dean stood up, spinning the chair around and sitting on it backwards again, his legs straddling the sides. Castiel sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Really? Are you incapable of sitting in a chair like an adult?”

“You wound me. And hey, dude, you told me to sit like normal,” he waved his arms out to the sides, staring down at himself and then grinning at Castiel. “Normal.”

Castiel sighed heavily, pushing his glasses up his nose and continuing.

He would never admit it, but the leg shots got better after that. Arms went smoothly too, and Castiel only had to remind himself to focus about twenty-five times. So that was an improvement.

When the camera finally snapped for the last time, about four hours after they had started, Dean looked visibly exhausted.

“I will never rag on a model ever again,” he groaned flopping down on the ground and closing his eyes.

Castiel ignored his comment, collecting the three rolls of film and putting them safely away in their containers.

“Next time we’ll be doing legs and arms, but with no clothes. Just, so you know.”

Dean sat up on his elbows, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Nudity?”

“Not completely. You’ll keep your underwear on.”

Dean laughed, grinning up at Castiel in that cocky way of his.

“I’ll make sure to wear my sexy ones then.”

Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes, walking out of the studio and flicking off the lights.

“Hey!” he heard Dean yell from the now-dark room, but he just smiled and walked into the living room. Dean strolled out a second later, shooting Castiel a quick glare. “Not cool, dude.”

Castiel dropped his film rolls into his backpack, sitting lightly on the arm of the couch. Dean stayed standing in front of him his arms crossed.

“So,” Castiel started, not really sure how to ask him to leave. His mood was rapidly souring, and any temporary amnesia he’d been granted was fading fast as the encounter from earlier crawled back into his memory. “That’s it for today. You can go now.”

Dean just stared at him for a second, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s up with you today?”

“Nothing is _up_ with me.”

“Uh huh. You’re also a terrible liar.”

Castiel glared at him, fixing his glasses and shoving his hands into his pockets. So maybe his mood had been sour for a while. But whatever.

“I didn’t have the best day ever.”

Concern spread across Dean’s face, and he took a step towards Castiel.

“What happened?”

“Your asshole friend,” Castiel mumbled, staring down at the ground. This was stupid. He shouldn’t even be telling him.

 _“What?”_ Dean basically growled, more anger in his voice that Castiel had anticipated. He glanced up, not fooled by the calm expression on Dean’s face. He was _pissed._ “Who was it? What did he say?”

“It was Gordon, he—”

“That fucker.”

Castiel glared at him. “Can you let me speak?”

Dean put up his hands in surrender, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

“Sorry.”

“He called me your ‘pet nerd’, accused me of taking naked pictures of you for myself, then called me a fag and walked away. So, not the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Dean ran two angry hands through his hair, staring down at the ground like he didn’t want to meet Castiel’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I am. I don’t know where he got that shit.”

“I do. I wear big glasses, I was carrying around shirtless pictures of you, and I like dicks.”

Castiel clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked at its traitorous behavior.

_Where the hell did that come from? Dicks? I like dicks? Smooth Castiel. Real smooth._

Thankfully Dean laughed, some of the anger fading from his expression.

“Still. Don’t make it okay for him to say that shit.”

“Whatever. I can handle it.”

Dean nodded, smiling just slightly.

“Hey, uh, what're you doing for dinner?”

Castiel glanced at his kitchen, knowing there was nothing in there that he wanted to deal with at the moment. He was a fantastically bad cook, but that never really bothered him. Who needed to cook when there was takeout?

“Probably ordering in.”

“Nope. No way. I’m cooking.”

Dean strolled into the kitchen before Castiel could even come up with any kind of protest. He started opening cupboards and rifling through the mostly empty fridge, clearly checking out Castiel’s meager stock.

“Dude, you have like, no food.”

Castiel followed him into the kitchen, leaning up against one of the counters.

“Why do you think I was ordering in? Besides, I didn’t say yes.”

“Details.”

“Don’t you have your own house? Your own brother to annoy?”

Dean laughed at that, not put off by Castiel’s grouchy tone in the slightest.

“Normally, yes. But Sammy is with his girl tonight, so I’m all yours.”

Castiel sighed, sliding his hands behind his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Is it too late to revoke your invitation?”

Dean stopped his search for a couple of seconds, flashing Castiel a devastating grin. And damn if that didn’t make his stomach flutter.

“ _Way_ too late. Spaghetti and meatballs sound okay?”

“I have the stuff for that?” Castiel raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side.

“Shockingly enough, yes. For somebody who doesn’t seem to cook much, you got a great supply of random shit,” Dean laughed, waving a box of breadcrumbs. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

Castiel put up his hands and retreated to the living room, itching to go watch but lacking a real reason to do so. Instead he picked up a book and curled up on the couch, smiling when he heard Dean singing quietly in the kitchen. He couldn’t quite catch the words, but it was probably one of his ridiculous rock songs.

Forty minutes later Dean emerged from the kitchen, two steaming plates in his hands with heaps of spaghetti on each one.

“Bon appétit,” Dean grinned, cocky as ever.

“Your french accent could use some work,” Castiel hummed, cutting into one of the delicious looking meatballs. It wasn’t completely round, but it looked and smelled mouth-watering.

“Shut up.”

Castiel took a bite, and the noise that involuntarily came out of his mouth was borderline pornographic. _Damn_ was he glad that Dean had insisted on cooking for him.

“Wow,” he groaned, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. He took another bite, slowly dragging his fork out of his mouth as spices exploded in his mouth. Who even knew spaghetti and meatballs could taste like this? He hummed happily around the bite, chewing slowly. “Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

He glanced up at Dean, who hadn’t made a sound. His fork was in his hand, halfway between his plate and his mouth like he had started to move it, and then forgotten about it. His green eyes were burning, staring straight at Castiel with a kind of intensity that he couldn’t figure out. His lips were slightly parted, and Castiel noticed a light blush on his cheeks.

“Dean?”

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in very suddenly, his fork dropping to his plate with a loud clatter. He laughed nervously, clearing his throat and staring down at his plate.

“Uh, sorry. What’d you say?”

“I asked where you learned to cook like this,” Castiel said again, adjusting his glasses.

_That was weird._

“Self-taught, I guess. I started to mess around after me and Sammy moved in with Bobby. He’s great, but he never had kids. And when you got a little kid to feed I guess you figure out your way around a kitchen.”

“Where were your parents?”

Dean didn’t respond right away, and Castiel had the good sense to regret his question. Dean was just staring down at his plate, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s fine. Gotta talk about it sometime, right?”

He managed a smile, but it was small and sad. Castiel nodded in response, sliding his glasses up his nose.

“Mom died when I was four. Car accident. Dad wasn’t ever really the same, after that. Couldn’t hold down a job, drank too much, moved us all over the country. We lived in motels more often than not. When I was fifteen I convinced Dad to let us stay with Bobby. He’s a family friend, so he’s known us for forever. Sammy was starting middle school, and he needed something stable. I thought Bobby could give that to us.”

“Do you still see him?”

Dean shrugged, pushing his spaghetti around his plate.

“Occasionally. He doesn’t make it out here much. Mostly I talk to him on the phone.”

“Well,” Castiel took another bite of meatball, humming happily. “I’m thankful for your skills.”

It was a blatant change of subject, but Dean looked grateful for it.

“Hey, I’m the full package,” he grinned, flirty as always. “Hot, funny, _and_ I cook.”

“Sure, Dean,” Castiel smiled slightly. “Just don’t let it go to your head.”

They talked about basically nothing for the rest of the meal. Castiel’s classes, weird customers Dean had seen at work. That new burger place on campus, and whether or not Lisa would throw another party that weekend. Apparently, according to Dean, she didn’t actually live in that mansion they had been at. That was just her parents house, who happened to go out of town quite frequently. Lisa lived in her sorority house, which didn't surprise Castiel one bit.

Dean asked about Castiel’s other models, if they had hung out like this. They hadn’t, of course. He even decided to quiz Castiel on his rock knowledge. Which was, admittedly, very limited. He had at least _heard_ of Led Zeppelin, though, which seemed to appease Dean just a tiny bit.

“You done?” Dean asked him, long after both of their plates were empty.

“God yes,” Castiel leaned back on the couch, sighing and closing his eyes. He honestly couldn’t believe he’d finished all of that, and at the moment he felt like he was going to pop.

He heard Dean chuckle and pick up his plate, wandering into the kitchen presumably to clean up. Castiel had enough presence of mind to think that he really should’ve been helping, considering that Dean had done all the cooking in the first place.

He would go help. In a minute.

He heard the water from the sink start running almost immediately. It took him another minute or two but he finally got up, wandering into the kitchen to try to be helpful.

When he got in there, though, Dean wasn’t really doing anything. He was standing at the sink, his hands gripping the counter, his shoulders hunched and his head hanging down. The water was running, but there were no dishes in the sink.

Castiel wanted to walk over and wrap his arms around Dean’s waist, but that was definitely incredibly inappropriate.

“Dean?”

He jumped, whirling around to face Castiel.

“Jesus Christ, Cas. You scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry. What are you doing?”

Castiel glanced around the still haphazard kitchen, clearly just as messy as it was to start with.

“Cleaning.”

Dean picked up the closest plate and started rinsing it off, scrubbing with a soapy sponge. Except…

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?” he sighed, sounding a little annoyed.

“That plate is already clean.”

Dean glanced down at the plate in his hands, then at the stack of clean dishes to his left.

“Oh. Shit.”

“You okay?”

His shoulders twitched and he stretched his neck from side to side, huffing a small laugh.

“Yeah. Tired, I guess.”

Castiel nodded, walking up to the counter and standing next to Dean.

“Let me help you.”

They did the dishes side by side, their elbows occasionally bumping. Dean washed, Castiel dried. It was nice. Well, as nice as doing dishes could be.

Castiel was working on a particularly large bowl when Dean spoke again.

“Cas?”

He just hummed, not looking over at Dean. This bowl needed his attention.

“Cas, look at me.”

_Um, okay. Weird._

He turned his head, setting the bowl down, his eyes flicking to the faucet that was no longer running. Then he finally met Dean’s eyes, not really sure what he was seeing there. Dean seemed to be fighting with something inside his own head, but Castiel had no idea what. There were only inches between them, and Castiel could still sense the leathery smell of Dean beneath the overwhelmingly floral scent of the bubbly soap that was coating Dean’s hands.

“What is it, Dean?”

“I’m not tired. I mean I _am_ tired, but…”

“But?”

It felt like it happened in slow motion. Dean seemed to make up his mind, the war in his green eyes settling on something far more determined. Then he reached up his soap covered hands to cup Castiel’s face, one on the side of his jaw and the other closer to the back of his neck. Then he was being pulled towards Dean, his muscles running on autopilot and not resisting.

Before he could process what was going to happen he felt Dean’s lips on his, soft and gentle and so delightfully warm. Castiel squeaked in surprise, not kissing back immediately.

_What the fuck?_

Dean was kissing him. _Dean_ was kissing _him._ His brain felt like it was exploding, every nerve ending absolutely on fire.

_What. The. Fuck._

And then he was kissing back. He didn’t care about the soap suds on his face, or the wetness in his hair, or anything else in the whole entire world. His brain was singularly focused. All he could smell was leather and car oil, all he could taste was Dean. Like cut grass on a rainy day, pancakes on a lazy Sunday.

Castiel almost whined when Dean pulled back, but he didn’t drop his hands or step away so that was something. Castiel belatedly realized that his hands were resting on Dean’s hips, their bodies pressed together from thigh to chest.

“Why,” Dean breathed, his eyes bright and his pupils wide, “in the _hell_ did I wait so long to do that?”

“I second that question,” Castiel murmured, loving the smile that spread across Dean’s face.

“Hey, you could’ve done something too.”

“I thought you were straight.”

“I am,” Dean started, making Castiel raise his eyebrows doubtfully. Dean kissed him again, gently, probably intended to be just a brush of lips but morphing into something needier. Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s hips, melting closer to his body.

“God damn,” Dean mumbled when they broke apart again, grinning. “I am, most of the time. Obviously not right now. Thought you knew that.”

"Dean, how in the world would I know that?"

"I dunno," Dean grinned, his thumb moving against Castiel's skin. "Guess I just assumed. Seems like everybody knows."

Castiel wondered why he never thought about Dean being bisexual before. He was just so… _supremely_ hetero. Like, old car, obsession with classic rock, douchey jock friends, flirty with every girl ever, liked to talk about his _bendy_ ex, the whole nine yards. But now, standing here in his kitchen pressed up against that very same guy, the bisexuality actually made a lot of sense.

The flirty way he grinned not just at Anna, but at Castiel too. The lingering stares, the nicknames, the quiet smiles. The way he draped his arm over Castiel’s shoulders at the party, the menacing way Dean’s friends glared at him. The movies, the home cooked dinner, the desire to just _hang out_ all the time.

_Stupid. You’re so stupid._

“So, uh, the dishes. Should we…?” Castiel let his voice trail off, gesturing sort of vaguely at the sink.

“Probably, yeah,” Dean dropped his hands, and Castiel immediately missed the warmth. That is, until Dean started laughing at him.

“What?” he snapped, fixing his glasses and squinting at him.

“You, uh, you got some soap, dude. Just there," he traced his fingers over his own neck, pointing at where the suds clung to Castiel's skin. "My bad.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed, using his towel to wipe the not-small amount of soap off of his face and neck.

They washed dishes for a couple more minutes, and this time Castiel knew that the elbow-brushing was on purpose. It didn’t last long though, and the entire time Castiel found himself stealing glances over at Dean. Soon enough the tension broke, and they both spun to look at each other at the same time.

“Do you wanna…” Dean started.

“…finish this later?” Castiel finished.

Dean grinned at him, cocky and mischievous. They wandered into the living room, and Castiel couldn’t help but feel kind of awkward. Was he supposed to act normal? What did normal even mean? What did Dean expect?

Dean, apparently, was going for normal. Whatever that was. He sank down onto the couch, planting his feet wide in front of him and spreading his arms across the back of it. He sat to one side this time, but Castiel took a seat next to him anyway.

Out of the kitchen, Castiel was feeling significantly less confident. The tension between them seemed to have waned, and Castiel was feeling generally quite awkward. He crossed his feet up on the couch and adjusted his glasses, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Hey, Cas?”

Castiel turned to face him, their faces only inches apart.

“Yes, Dean?”

“I like you,” he started, then stopped and cursed under his breath. “I mean, you’re cool. I like, I dunno, hanging out. And I like this,” he ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair, ghosting across the back of his neck until Dean’s arm was resting on Castiel shoulders. Castiel shivered at the contact, and Dean stifled a smile. “But that’s about all I got to offer, right now.”

Castiel had to fight not to breathe an audible sigh of relief. He was still processing the idea that Dean even occasionally swung his way, he couldn’t even begin to think about what in the hell he _wanted_ out of this, if anything. And at the very least, Dean felt the same way.

Castiel let his eyes drag over Dean’s face, and he could tell that he was anticipating a negative response.

“That seems like a good place to start. Just...see what happens.”

"Yeah," Dean grinned, tightening his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulling him in for a quick kiss that ended up not being that quick at all. When they finally surfaced, Dean was smiling and Castiel could feel his own lips turning up.

“Want to watch Planet Earth?” Castiel asked, a small blush creeping up his cheeks.

“That depends. Which one?”

“I’m thinking, _Ice Worlds_ or _Ocean Deep._ Opinions?”

“You had me at _Ice Worlds.”_

Castiel turned on the dvd and tucked himself back under Dean’s arm, content with the weight of it across his back and shoulders. He felt like he was allowed this now, this small contact. It felt good. He didn't have a clue how the status of their relationship had changed so rapidly in one evening, but for once he wasn't worried about it. For right now, this was enough.

And as much as he loved _Ice Worlds,_ it was late and it didn’t take long for him to doze off, his cheek pressed against Dean’s shoulder.

He dreamt vividly, and to be totally honest it was weird as hell. The dream was about a green-eyed, freckled polar bear, who actually turned out to be quite nice for, you know, a gigantic carnivorous bear. The bear showed him where the good swimming spot was, and it wasn’t even that cold. They chased seals together, and Castiel got the impression that maybe he was a polar bear too. When he got tired the bear curled up at his side, pressed a wet nose into his hair, and whispered goodnight.

_“Goodnight, angel.”_

Yeah. Really fucking weird.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the…” he pulled the fabric off of his face, staring down at the bundle in his hands. _Flannel. Oh no…_
> 
> “Let’s go, drill sergeant. Work, remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of short, so I apologize for that, but I wanted to get a chapter out and I didn't want to fight with it to convince it to be longer. I hope it's still enjoyable!

Castiel woke up on Tuesday morning for the first time in probably ever before his alarm even went off. He stared blindly around the room for a minute before grabbing his glasses off the nightstand. 

Right away he noticed two things. One, he was alone in his bed. He couldn’t decide if he was happy about that or not. And two, he had no idea when he fell asleep or how he got from the couch to his bed. 

Awkward. 

He shouldn’t have expected Dean to still be there, but now he just felt even weirder than he’d felt the night before. Where were they even supposed to _go_ from here?

Castiel laid in bed a while longer, just sort of stewing in his own thoughts. He eventually came to the conclusion that he really didn't regret the previous evening, even if maybe he should’ve. When he glanced over at his clock, he noticed that it was already past 7am. 

_Figures,_ he snorted, laughing ironically at the fact that his alarm was still refusing to go off in the morning. Good thing he was already up. 

A hot shower and a steaming cup of black coffee seemed to strip away the last remnants of weirdness, and he was actually feeling…sort of excited. For what, he wasn’t sure, but that didn’t stop the feeling from buzzing under his skin. 

After a few minutes of searching he found his keys in the kitchen and his phone on the coffee table in the living room, and set off for school. Just as he walked out the door, his phone vibrated in his hand. 

**Dean:** _hey sleeping beauty, you up yet?_

And Castiel certainly did not smile like an idiot. 

**Castiel:** _I’m not sure that they even make spinning wheels anymore_

He obviously couldn’t see it, but he kind of hoped that Dean was grinning at the other end of the line. 

**Dean:** _damn. was hoping to wake you up with my magic lips_

 **Castiel:** _I don’t have time for your fantasies. I have class._

Maybe he didn’t know him that well yet, but Castiel was almost positive that Dean would smile at that one. He finally reached the steps of his class building as he pressed send, feeling his phone vibrate again after only a few seconds. 

**Dean:** _how about thursday? got time for my fantasies on thursday?_

 **Dean:** _got doubles at work today and tomorrow_

Castiel felt his forehead wrinkle at the prospect of waiting two, whole, torturous days, alone with his thoughts. He entered his classroom and mindlessly plopped down next to Anna, completely unaware of the look she was giving him. 

**Castiel:** _thursday is good. but we have work to do._

 **Dean:** _fine fine. I promise to get naked ;)_

Castiel _knew,_ at least logically, that Dean was 100% absolutely talking about the pictures they still had to finish. Of course. But then his imagination ran away. And his imagination was not nearly as rational. 

“Ahem.”

Castiel tore his attention away from his phone, fixing his glasses with this finger. Anna was eyeing him suspiciously, her head tilted like she was observing some strange animal. 

“Good morning, Anna.”

“Who are you and what’ve you done with Castiel?”

Castiel just offered her a small smile, slipping his phone into his bag and pulling out an old notebook and a black pen. 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sweetie, don’t lie to me,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his bullshit for one second. “You might as well just tell me before I drag it out of you.”

“Can we—” Castiel glanced around the quiet room, at the other ten or so students. Way too small of a space to start talking about his personal life. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

She narrowed her eyes at him like she wasn’t quite sure she believed him, but thank god their professor finally arrived and any chance of talking flew out the window. The hour and a half class dragged by at an immensely slow rate, and Castiel couldn’t help but stare at the clock for the majority of it. 

When 9:50 finally hit, he felt like he could’ve cried from relief. 

Right up until Anna basically shoved him out the door and cornered him in the hallway. 

“Speak.”

“Jeeze, Anna. It was just a kiss it wasn’t—”

Her jaw might as well have hit the floor, it would’ve been less dramatic. 

“You—I—and he—” Anna stared at him, eyes wide and a triumphant smile on her face. “I knew this was going to happen!”

“Okay okay,” Castiel sighed, amused by Anna’s excitement. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“So are you guys like…together now?”

“No,” Castiel replied immediately, even as he felt a sort of disappointment wash over him. “No, no. God, no. We’re not really anything. Like I said, not a big deal.”

“You are killing me,” Anna pouted, patting his cheeks lightly with both of her hands. 

“Anna, we’ve known each other for a week. A _week._ What did you expect?”

 _More._

Castiel wrinkled his nose, shoving _that_ unwelcome thought out of his head. No thank you. 

“I guess you’re right,” Anna sighed, thankfully conceding quite easily. “Fine. Go to class. I’ll see you later.”

***

The next two days dragged by slower than Castiel would’ve ever thought possible. He spent some time in the dark room, spent a lot of time reading, hung out with Anna. Slowly Thursday crept closer and closer, and Castiel got more and more nervous.

Which Anna had absolutely no problem calling him out on. When they got some more free time on Tuesday afternoon, she’d made him recount the entire story with _far_ more detail, squealing and smiling the entire time. It was exhausting. 

He hadn’t texted Dean since Tuesday, and he certainly hadn’t seem him around campus. Part of him wanted to say something, but that felt weird. He had no reason to contact him, and anyway Dean wasn’t rushing to talk to him either. Mostly he just, didn’t know how to act. Didn’t know where they stood. The whole thing was making him think far too much. 

After class he went straight home, intending to meet Dean there. And when he arrived, the other boy was already sitting by his front door. 

“I know I’m not late today. Its only 12:25.”

“Yeah, yeah. Cuttin’ it close, though,” Dean grinned, dragging himself up into a standing position. 

Castiel felt his stomach flutter at the sound of Dean’s rumbling voice, wanting so badly to close the space between them and slide his hands under his dark green flannel. 

_God when did you get so needy? Control yourself._

Castiel unlocked the door to his apartment, walking through the doorway with Dean at his back. 

“You can wait in the studio. I’ll be in in a minute.”

“The dungeon? Again?”

“It’s not a dungeon,” Castiel sighed, ignoring the note of sarcasm in his voice. 

“Sure it’s not. I just want a change of scenery. Like your room.”

Castiel flushed immediately. He kept his back turned, hoping that Dean couldn’t tell from the tension of his shoulders the kind of surprise that was probably painted all over his face. 

_His room? Why? Did Dean expect something?_

“My room? Why my room?”

“I just think it’s an insane injustice that I spend all this time here and the only time I’ve even _seen_ your room is when I had to carry you in there after your tired ass fell asleep on the couch. And I didn’t exactly turn the lights on and look around.”

Castiel dropped his stuff next to the couch and turned to face Dean, his arms crossed and an exasperated look on his face. 

“Dean, you’re my employee. You have absolutely no reason to go into my room.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, a cocky grin on his face. He walked forward slowly, only stopping when the toes of his shoes touched Castiel’s, their noses not even a centimeter apart.

“Uh huh. Just your employee.”

Castiel swallowed thickly, his breath hitching in his throat. 

_Shit shit shit._

“Fine. You want to see it that badly…”

He spun and quickly walked away, eager to get that intoxicating smell out of his nose. His imagination was running wild, his hands itching to _take take take._

Castiel flipped the light on in his room, standing just inside the doorway to allow Dean to enter. His room wasn’t exceptionally messy or anything, but it wasn’t really clean either. His comforter was rumpled from that morning, there were a couple of t-shirts lying on the floor, one of his dresser drawers was still hanging open. Other than that, there wasn’t a whole lot going on in there. It was pretty sparse, aside from a couple of pictures he had hanging on the walls. 

But the way Dean looked around the room, like he was studying it, it made Castiel feel downright _exposed._ Like there was something he could see in there that Castiel hadn’t even noticed. 

“It’s nice.”

Castiel just nodded, not really sure what to say. He quickly adjusted his glasses, tugged a hand through his unruly hair.

“So…” Dean said after a couple of seconds, dropping his arm across Castiel’s shoulders. “Wanna make out?”

“Really? That’s why you wanted to come in here?” Castiel sighed, rubbing his eyes. It didn’t sound like a bad idea, not _at all,_ but still. Principle. 

“Mostly no,” Dean shrugged casually, not looking guilty in the least. “I just wanted to see it. See where this legendary bed head happens.”

Dean ruffled Castiel’s hair with his fingers, probably making it look even worse. 

“We have _work_ to do, Dean,” Castiel scoffed and rolled his eyes, shoving Dean’s arm off his shoulders and turning to walk back out into the living room. 

“Wait wait wait,” Dean laughed, reaching out and tugging on Castiel’s wrist. Castiel paused, letting Dean pull him back into his room. “I’m kidding. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

Dean let go of his wrist and rubbed the back of his neck, looking surprisingly unsure of himself.

“Seriously, Cas, I got no idea what I’m doing.”

Castiel turned and walked over to his bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. He pulled his knees up to his chest and planted his feet on the couch, facing Dean with his body. That definitely made two of them. 

“I have no idea what you’re doing either.”

Dean laughed, and Castiel smiled back at him, fixing his glasses with this finger. It felt like they were both sort of skirting around the gigantic elephant in the room, like _ha ha ha, we kissed and came dangerously close to cuddling, ha ha, yeah, remember that? yeah, good times._

Which was, you know, pretty awkward. 

“You know…” Dean started, confidence bleeding back into every pore of his body. Castiel felt immediately drawn to him, but the sneaky smile on his face told him to stay put. Dean shifted his position so that he was standing at the foot of the bed, planting one foot on the ground and resting the other knee on the edge of the bed. “Your sass isn’t appreciated.”

“Is that so?”

“Not appreciated at all.”

He reached forward with his hands and wrapped his fingers around both of Castiel’s ankles, his green eyes sparkling. Castiel furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly to the side, not entirely sure what Dean was up to.

“Dean…”

Dean tightened his grip, and Castiel had exactly one second to figure out what was going to happen before Dean pulled. In one swift tug Dean pulled his entire body down the bed, stretching his body out along the entire length of it. All Castiel could do was yelp in surprise before he found himself flat on his back with Dean’s entire weight settled on top of him.

“Holy shit,” Castiel wheezed, barely able to breathe with Dean’s crushing body on top of his. Luckily Dean seemed to hear the distress in his voice and shifted his weight, leaving just enough pressure to pin him down but not enough to impair his breathing. 

“Sass me now I dare you,” Dean grinned down at him, cocky and flirtatious. He had Castiel pinned and he knew it. 

Castiel tried to move his arms to help his cause, but that just encouraged Dean to pin both of his wrists down with one hand. He sighed heavily, feeling distinctly annoyed. But then, maybe not all of him was annoyed. 

_Definitely not all._

“You’re the alpha male, you win,” Castiel scowled up at him, which just made Dean laugh more. “You can get off of me now.”

“Nah, I’m comfy.”

“Oh, you’re comfy? That’s great. I was worried, so thanks for clearing that up.”

“I’m a giver,” he grinned, winking casually. Castiel felt his body heat up. “Hey, how bad do you need these?”

Dean snatched Castiel’s glasses off of his face, and the whole world went out of focus. Castiel made an unintelligible noise of protest, blinking blindly and trying to make sense of the blurred shapes in front of his face. 

“Pretty damn badly. Now give them back,” Castiel squirmed extra hard, making Dean press some extra weight onto his frame. 

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I don’t have any idea because _I can’t see.”_

He glared up at the blob that looked like Dean’s face, but he was probably staring at his ear or something. 

“It’s that bad? Can you see me at all?”

“You look like a big, blurry, blob. Are we done now?”

The blob moved, and Castiel felt Dean’s breath on his face. 

“Can you see me if I’m really close to you?”

Castiel’s brain was short-circuiting again, the smell of Dean infiltrating his brain. 

Focus.

“You look like a slightly more defined blob. But I’m not nearsighted, _nor_ am I farsighted. So no, I still _can’t see.”_

Dean laughed quietly, but Castiel could still feel the breath on his face so obviously Dean hadn’t moved away yet. He heard the soft sound of Dean setting his glasses on his bedside table, then felt Dean release his wrists. He still couldn’t see a damn thing, and a not so quiet part of himself sort of liked it. 

“Is this okay?” Dean murmured, resting his forehead against Castiel’s, settling his hand on the side of his neck and running his thumb across Castiel’s lips. 

“Yes,” Castiel hummed, feeling his way blindly up Dean’s chest and arms until his hands were resting on the side of his neck. His mind was racing, thoughts flying through his brain faster than he could get a hold of them. 

_What are you doing? This is a bad idea. Don’t want to stop. Should stop. Can’t focus. What are you doing? What is he doing? How did this happen? What are you even thinking? Snap out of it._

_Focus. Focus. Focus._

And almost as if Dean could sense the hysteria happening inside of Castiel’s brain, he kissed him. Their lips molded together, and every last thought went flying out the window. 

_This is right._

Dean sighed happily against Castiel’s mouth, his body tangibly relaxing. He leaned more heavily into the kiss, and Castiel happily returned the pressure. Dean’s hands slowly dragged down Castiel’s arms, finding each one of his hands and winding their fingers together. He dragged their intertwined hands up and out, settling them stretched out above Castiel’s head and slowly stroking the back of his palms with his thumbs. 

Gradually they both opened up, presses of lips becoming traces of tongues and soft scrapes of teeth. Their mouths moved together slowly, a raging fire burning in-between them and threatening to consume them both. 

Castiel had absolutely no idea where this burning heat was coming from, but he wasn’t about to question it. There was no pressure behind the kiss, nothing urging them to go further before they were ready. Castiel didn’t feel like he needed to tear his clothes off, or do the same to Dean. He _wanted_ to, but he didn’t _need_ to, and for some reason that felt _important._ He felt like he could just lay there under him all night long, memorizing every minute detail of his mouth. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t think so much,” Castiel breathed when their mouths finally parted. 

He heard Dean huff a small laugh, and he wished he had his glasses on so he could actually see the other boy’s reaction. 

“Seems to work better,” Dean said, sounding distracted. Castiel licked his lips nervously, completely caught off guard when Dean almost _growled_ deep in his throat, kissing Castiel again long and thorough. “Don’t do that. It’s distracting.”

“And we have work to do,” Castiel felt the corners of his mouth twitch up. 

“Yeah, work.”

Castiel waited a couple of seconds, but he didn’t move.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“You’re going to need to get off of me.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Dean laughed. 

_“Fine._ So eager to get my clothes off.”

Dean’s weight shifted off the bed, and Castiel immediately felt around on his bedside table for his glasses. He settled them on his nose and sat up just in time for a bundle of fabric to hit him right in the face. 

“What the…” he pulled the fabric off of his face, staring down at the bundle in his hands. _Flannel. Oh no…_

“Let’s go, drill sergeant. Work, remember?”

There was a suspicious smile in his tone, like he sounded way too happy to be getting up to do a shoot. Castiel glanced up at Dean, just to get another face full of fabric, This time, a black t-shirt. Castiel felt like he was in shock. He couldn’t move, couldn’t stop staring at the clothes in his hands. When he finally looked up again, Dean was out of sight. 

And on the floor in the doorway were his shoes, and his belt. 

_Shit._

He was so not prepared for this.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How cheesy of you to say.”
> 
> Dean’s cocky grin slid back into place, his eyes flashing playfully. 
> 
> “I’m a big softy at heart.”
> 
> “Sure you are,” Castiel raised an eyebrow, completely unconvinced. 
> 
> “And you’re hot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry this took so long. None of my characters wanted to come out and play, and it was a bit of a struggle to make them cooperate. These things happen. Thank you for your patience!

Castiel swallowed thickly and walked into his studio. No way Dean was going to make this easy on him. 

He was already laying on his back on the ground, his arms flung out to the side and his knees bent, his feet planted indecently wide on the floor. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling slowly, deep, measured breaths just barely audible in the quiet of the room. 

Castiel wasn’t exactly sure if he’d stayed true to his promise to wear his “sexy underwear”, but the black briefs looked good enough on him to _definitely_ qualify. They were tight, suctioning to his hips and cupping… _other_ parts of his body in ways that certainly shouldn’t have been legal. 

_Shit shit shit._

Castiel already felt his body responding, desperate to blow off the shoot and see if all of that freckled skin tasted as good as it looked. And it was freckled, just about _everywhere._ The specks weren’t as dense on the rest of his body as they were on his face and shoulders, but they were definitely there. Flecks of color, pushing at Castiel’s resolve more and more as each second passed. 

He wondered idly if Dean would let him count them, let him trace his fingers over each and every one. He’d already resisted the urge to do exactly that with the pictures he already had of Dean, arriving at the conclusion that it was decidedly creepy to sit and stare at pictures of some guy he barely knew without said guy knowing about it. He refused to act like a fourteen-year-old girl pining after some crush, writing Dean’s name in his notebook surrounded by little hearts. Castiel Novak was an _adult,_ and he was certainly capable of acting like one. 

_Sure, keep telling yourself that._

Castiel sighed at the obnoxious voice in his head, quickly fixing his glasses and shoving a hand through his hair. His focus was already slipping. _Shit._  

“Hey, Cas?”

Castiel tilted his head at the sound of Dean’s voice, the other boy not having changed position  at all. There was a knowing smile on his lips though, which made Castiel highly suspicious. 

“Yes, Dean?”

“You’ve been standing staring at me for like, three minutes.”

Castiel inhaled sharply, feeling what seemed like all of the blood in his _entire_ body rush to his cheeks. When he didn’t respond, Dean finally opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows, grinning in that stupid, cocky way of his. 

“Like what you see?”

Castiel just glared at him, tearing his drifting gaze away before his eyes decided to focus on some of the more inappropriate places on Dean’s body that were on display. 

_Be professional. Focus._

“Sit up, please.”

He heard Dean comply, and luckily there weren’t any more snarky comments. Castiel fumbled with the film, dropping it twice and loading it incorrectly once before managing to actually snap his camera closed and wind it up for the first shot. 

_“Fuck. Shit,”_ Castiel grumbled under his breath, cursing his stupid, useless hands. 

“Who knew you had that kind of mouth on you,” Dean commented, and Castiel didn’t dare turn around to see the kind of expression that he was most likely wearing. If the deep, pleased tone of his voice was anything to go by, there was no way Castiel would be able to resist whatever was burning in his green eyes. 

“So,” Castiel cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. _Professional_. “We’ll do legs and arms simultaneously. You know the drill by now.”

Castiel finally turned around, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. 

_You are capable of interacting with an attractive guy. Pull yourself together._

Dean was sitting up, his shoulders slightly hunched forward and his legs bent out in front of him with the bottoms of his feet almost touching. Castiel’s mind briefly wandered, thinking that the empty space between his legs would probably be pretty comfortable to sit in. 

“Yes sir.”

Castiel joined him on the ground, trying to decide where to start. 

“Relax your arms?” he mumbled, mimicking how he wanted Dean to sit. 

Dean mirrored his position, hunching forward a bit more and settling his hands loosely on the floor between his knees. Castiel stopped counting freckles and snapped a picture. His hands were mostly out of focus, the rest of his body serving as background. Exactly what Castiel wanted. 

“Stay where you are.”

Castiel shifted his position so that he was sitting more behind Dean, to his side, catching the length of his toned arms in the frame. His legs were out of focus this time. Castiel exhaled Dean’s intoxicating scent reluctantly and snapped a picture. 

“Shift.”

His voice sounded unnecessarily raspy, but Castiel just cleared his throat and tried to ignore it. It was probably just dry. 

Dean moved, pulling his knees together and stretching one leg out mostly straight, draping his arms over his bent knee. His bare skin was never ending, his muscles rippling and rolling underneath. 

_Shit._

Castiel bent low, angling the camera up towards his bent knee. Every blonde hair that covered his legs seemed to stand out. He closed his eyes, and snapped a picture. 

He set the camera on the ground, using his hands to adjust the position of Dean’s arms and hands. He studiously ignored the warmth he felt where their skin touched, and the way Dean’s fingers seemed to automatically curl around his own. 

Castiel reluctantly broke the skin on skin contact and very purposefully did not look at Dean’s eyes. He snapped a picture. 

“Can you lay down again?”

He could feel Dean’s smile burning into him. 

“Sure.”

Dean recreated the position he’d been in when Castiel entered, on his back with his arms flung wide and his knees bent up. Castiel sprawled out on his stomach next to Dean, leaning slightly over Dean’s chest on his elbows to focus the camera on the opposite arm. His chest and part of his side were just barely visible in the frame, blurred out of focus. 

Castiel ignored the warmth of Dean’s body just centimeters away from his own, and snapped a picture. 

“Hey, Cas?”

He felt Dean’s fingers brush across his lower back, tracing up his spine. Castiel had to try valiantly to hide his shiver. 

“Not now, Dean.”

But, of course, Dean was having none of that. Castiel snapped a picture just as Dean reached forward with his other hand, catching him in the act of snatching the camera out of Castiel’s grasp. 

“Really?” Castiel glared down at him, adjusting his glasses with his now empty fingers. Dean just grinned and set the camera down out of Castiel’s reach, settling his hand on the side of Castiel’s neck. “Now’s not the time.”

He tried to sound angry. He really did. 

“Let’s take a break.”

“No.”

His voice was stern, but Dean’s hand on his back grew firmer and he didn’t exactly make an effort to get away. Dean’s eyes dropped to Castiel’s lips, and he made a concentrated effort not to lick them. 

_Shit_. 

“You smell good,” Dean murmured, his voice silky and warm, and some of his usual cocky façade slipping for a moment. Castiel took full advantage, breezing right past his own reaction because yeah, no thank you, not thinking about _that_ right now. 

“How cheesy of you to say.”

Dean’s cocky grin slid back into place, his eyes flashing playfully. 

“I’m a big softy at heart.”

“Sure you are,” Castiel raised an eyebrow, completely unconvinced. 

“And you’re hot.”

Castiel felt his cheeks heat up immediately. _Focus_. 

“Your feeble attempts at distraction aren’t going to work. Camera, please?”

Dean just grinned at him, not budging an inch. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Castiel snapped, pulling off annoyed a little bit better this time because yeah, Dean was definitely being annoying.

“Doing what?”

Dean was the picture of innocence, and Castiel didn’t fall for it for one single second. 

“You’re being childish.”

_Because you’re being so professional._

Dean sighed heavily, and Castiel forced himself to bite back the retort in his throat. Dean grabbed the camera and shoved it back into Castiel’s hands, flopping back down on the ground and closing his eyes. 

“Fine. You’re no fun. Continue, drill sergeant.”

God he was dramatic. But then, maybe Castiel could give just a little bit. 

Before he could think too much about it, he scooted forward and kissed Dean as surely as he could, letting their lips melt together. Dean made a surprised noise in his throat but recovered quickly, and Castiel felt his hand cup his jaw, his thumb sliding across his cheek. Dean didn’t pull, didn’t push for more, didn’t try to take control. He followed where Castiel led, and Castiel couldn’t help but smile when Dean lifted his head to chase Castiel’s lips as he slowly pulled away. 

“Let’s finish,” Castiel hummed, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. 

“Okay,” Dean stared up at him, something like what Castiel might’ve called awe in his eyes. But that probably wasn't it. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

The rest of the shoot did _not_ get any easier. Castiel wanted to cry with relief when it was finally over because _yes_ maybe he could finally form some coherent thoughts now. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Dean called from the hallway, where he’d gone to fetch the other articles of clothing that he’d peeled off on the way. 

Castiel thought for a moment or two, conscious of the emptiness of his stomach. He didn’t _want_ Dean to leave, by any means, and if he was offering to stay…

“How about some food, first?”

Dean’s head popped into the doorway of the studio just as Castiel finished putting his film away. Thank God he was fully clothed again. 

“Sure. Want me to cook?

“That depends,” Castiel hummed, brushing past him and strolling into the living room. He took a seat on the far end of the couch and tucked his feet up under him, conscious of the way Dean’s eyes followed him across the small space. 

_You’re enjoying this way too much._

“On?”

“Can you make burgers?”

Dean grinned, his green eyes lighting up and tugging on something in Castiel’s chest. 

“Can I make burgers,” Dean laughed. “Dude.”

It turned out that not only could Dean make burgers, he made _incredible,_ mouth-watering, groan-inducing, juicy, dream burgers. Flavorful and pink in the middle, just how Castiel liked them. He even went out and bought chips and beer with the rest of the ingredients, adamant that they were going to eat their burgers the way they were meant to be eaten. 

“You could’ve at least bought _good_ beer,” Castiel complained, his face feeling warm as he drained his second bottle. 

“Uh huh. And what would you consider _good beer_ , Cas?” Dean raised his eyebrows knowingly, taking a long drag from his own bottle. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel mumbled around a mouthful of burger. 

“Probably some local, microbrewery shit.”

Castiel glared at him, sucking on his oily fingers and trying not to smile when he noticed Dean’s eyes following his movements. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“You’re staring.”

Dean’s eyes flicked up to meet Castiel’s own, as he processed the knowing smirk on Castiel’s face. 

“Shut up. You’re the one being so…noisy.”

Castiel squinted his eyes and tilted his head, feigning innocence. 

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Dick,” Dean rolled his eyes, snatching up Castiel’s empty plate and walking into the kitchen. “Just put on the friggin’ movie.”

They still hadn’t watched the last _Star Wars_ , which meant that Castiel had one more movie to suffer through. At least, that’s what he’d thought.

“So after this we’ll watch the first three. The special effects get better, but you do have to deal with friggin’ Jar Jar Binks so its a trade-off.”

“The first three?” Castiel furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. “But this is the sixth one.”

“Yeah. Now we gotta watch one, two, and three.”

“But…” Dean was grinning at him, clearly amused by the confusion that was surely painted all over Castiel’s face. “But you said the fourth one is the first one.”

“It is.”

“But there is actually a first one.”

“Yes.”

“So the fourth one isn’t the first one.”

“No, it is. The first one is the fourth one.”

Castiel stared at him, chewing on his lip and trying to decide if Dean was screwing with him or not. 

“This still makes no sense.”

“You’re thinking about it too much,” Dean grinned, dragging a hand through Castiel’s hair and staring at him for a second before leaning back against the opposite couch arm. “Just trust me.”

Castiel blinked at the contact, slowly getting accustomed to how tactile Dean seemed to be. 

_Trust me._

He just made it sound so easy. 

So Castiel had four movies to suffer through, at least one of which was still filled with miserably bad special effects. But then, maybe it wouldn’t be that terrible. He sort of liked Dean’s incessant quoting, and at the moment he was feeling full and sleepy and warm and he had been so good all day about keeping his hands off of Dean and…

He was sort of done being good. 

It took about twenty minutes of said bad special effects before Castiel decided to give up. Dean was sitting at the opposite end of the couch, his arm laying across the back and his legs stretched out towards Castiel. His attention was raptly focused on the TV, where the guy from the last movie was _finally_ being defrosted—or, whatever you were supposed to call it when there was metal involved. 

Castiel briefly considered asking Dean if it was okay. Maybe Dean wasn’t a cuddler. 

_Of course he’s not a cuddler. Have you seen him? Type-A alpha male. Not a cuddler._

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. He was thinking about this too much. Way too much. So he stopped thinking. 

“Well hey,” Dean chuckled when Castiel changed positions, laying down between Dean’s legs. He only sounded kind of surprised, and he didn’t _sound_ uncomfortable, so Castiel took that as a good sign. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist underneath his flannel, and laid his head on his chest. His glasses were sort of smooshed against his face, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

“Don’t ruin it,” Castiel mumbled, trying not to inhale too obviously. 

He felt Dean’s fingers on his chin, easily tilting his face towards him and meeting his lips in a soft kiss. 

“Got it,” Dean smiled, slipping a hand underneath the hem of Castiel’s shirt and stroking the bare skin there. He pulled pack after a few seconds, carding a hand through Castiel’s hair. “Now watch the damn movie.”

Castiel felt a smile tugging at his lips. 

And any doubts he had about whether or not Dean was a cuddler, well those were dispersed pretty quickly. He kept a hand on Castiel’s back for the rest of the movie, and the other one stayed buried in his messy dark hair. It sure _felt_ like Dean was doing everything he could to hold Castiel against his body, but that probably wasn’t it. 

Dean _did_ seem to like his hair, though. 

***

Castiel managed to not think too much about whatever was going on, right up until Anna cornered him at her apartment on Friday night. 

“That is just freaking _adorable_ , Castiel.”

He wrinkled his nose, tucking his feet underneath him and fixing his glasses. 

“Please don’t call me adorable. I am not adorable.”

“No, you and _Dean_ are adorable.”

“That’s worse,” Castiel groaned, tugging on his hair. It looked particularly bad that day, and Castiel tried very hard not to think about the fact that it was probably at least partially due to Dean’s fingers. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” she hummed, twirling a strip of hair. “New models this week.”

Castiel hummed, kind of bummed about that particular strand of conversation. 

“Who are you hoping for this time?”

“I need a girl,” Anna pouted. “No handsome freshmen this time.”

“So sad for you,” Castiel laughed. “I guess you’ll have to keep it in your pants this time.”

Anna raised her eyebrows at him, laughing animatedly. 

“Oh, sure Castiel, like _you_ can say that to _me.”_

“Excuse you. Everything has stayed strictly in my pants, thank you.”

“Damn shame. Dean is _hot.”_

Castiel just raised his eyebrows at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Just saying,” she giggled. “What about you?”

“I think I need a blonde,” Castiel mused. “Guy or girl.”

“Dean is kind of blonde.”

“Hardly,” Castiel sighed. Light brown was more accurate. Maybe dirty blonde, on a particularly sunny day. But not _blonde_. 

“Ugh. You’re making me want to vomit.”

Anna flopped down on the couch, sighing heavily. Castiel just eyed her, waiting for further explanation.

“You’re stupid puppy eyes. Promise me you’re not in over your head.”

She still wasn't looking at him, but Castiel could hear the seriousness in her voice. He chose not to answer her, because he wasn’t really sure what kind of promises he could make. He was pretty sure he could handle it. 

But maybe not making-promises-to-Anna sure. 

“I can ask Meg, if she wants to model for you.”

“Is she the one that’s like, obsessed with you? Was she any good?”

Castiel shrugged. “She was good. Kind of a diva.”

“Aren’t they all,” Anna sighed. “Aren’t they all.”

They were both quiet for a little while, sort of passively watching some animal planet show on the TV and commenting every once in a while. When Castiel’s phone vibrated in his pocket, he acted like he didn’t get a jolt of excitement. 

**Dean:** _cas._

**Castiel:** _yes, dean?_

**Dean:** _wanna see you_

Castiel tried not to smile. 

“I think Dean is drunk,” he commented, getting an excited grin from Anna. 

“Oh? What’d lover boy say?”

_“Wanna see you,”_ Castiel laughed, doubly when Anna’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Who knew Dean Winchester was the wistful type.”

Castiel just hummed, typing back a quick response. 

**Castiel:** _how very needy of you._

**Dean:** _shut up dick_

**Castiel:** _how drunk are you?_

Dean didn’t respond for a few minutes, and Castiel spent approximately three seconds worrying that Dean was mad before he brushed it off. 

He could handle a little sass. 

**Dean:** _who uses commas in texts anyway_

Castiel could practically hear Dean’s frustrated huff through the phone. 

**Castiel:** _go have fun_

**Dean:** _still coming tomorrow?_

**Dean:** _say yes_

Castiel’s smile was short-lived, as Anna took another opportunity to poke him in the side and prod him for his “puppy eyes” once again. 

**Castiel:** _yes. now stop bothering me._

**Dean:** _god stop trying to seduce me_

It would seem that Dean’s ridiculousness knew no bounds, and Castiel sort of reluctantly enjoyed it. 

“Hey Anna, want to go to a party tomorrow?”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “I’m never going to say no to a party with my bff.”

“Of course not.”

Castiel smiled, slipping his phone back into his pocket and slouching further down the couch. Things were looking okay. 

Maybe he could stop worrying so much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter. It ended up way floofier than intended, and I'm generally unsure about it. Your honest feedback is appreciated!
> 
> That being said, some minor editing may occur. Stay tuned.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That was so fucking cute!” the red-haired girl yelled, squealing loudly. 
> 
> Anna was smiling proudly at him, and he was pretty sure he heard Jo mumble something about “fucking finally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter and the next chapter were originally one chapter, but the boys felt like playing a little bit, so I let them do their thing. Things got floofy again, but you guys seemed to respond well to the last one so hopefully that's the case again. I swear I'll write some real plot soon, I promise.
> 
> And because I made you wait so long last time, here's some more. Let the incredibly sporadic, randomly updating fanfic continue.

Castiel wasn’t sure at what point he became a party-goer, at what point these huge gatherings stopped being so tedious for him. He usually hated the noise and the crowds and the alcohol. 

And yet here he was, Saturday night, once again on Lisa Braeden’s couch with Dean’s arm draped over his shoulder. The position felt platonic, something he’d seen Dean do with quite a few other people, and Castiel was fairly certain that none of the people around them suspected anything more than friendship between them. But that was okay. He wasn’t quite sure what was and wasn’t allowed in this… _thing_ they had going, and for the moment Castiel was content to let Dean lead the way. The smell of Dean and the warmth of his body was pleasant, and that was all Castiel’s muddled brain really cared about. 

That, and maybe the fact that every once in a while Dean would whisper something in his ear, or ruffle his hair, and yeah it was annoying and Castiel didn’t _totally_ hate it. Dean’s fingers in his hair was definitely something he could get used to. 

So, yeah. Totally platonic. 

There was a fairly large group of people sitting on and around the couch, including Lisa, Jo, Anna, Benny, Victor, Gordon, and a handful of other people Castiel didn’t know. They were all laughing and telling stories, but Castiel was just passively listening. The hum of the conversation flowed, and the actual words didn’t matter so much. For a while. 

“…yeah right. More like _Dean Winchester, serial womanizer.”_

The group laughed, and Castiel felt his attention reluctantly shift to the girl who had spoken. She was pretty, there was no denying that, with dark skin and wild, curly hair. 

“Hey hey hey,” he laughed. “Womanizer is a strong word. I’m a gentleman.”

“Sure, you’re a gentleman,” a different girl joined in, this one with light skin and blonde hair. “And I’m sure every girl here can attest to how _gentlemanly_ you really are.”

The whole crowd laughed again, and a couple of guys reached forward to high-five him. 

_Douchebags. Did he really sleep with_ all _of them? Jesus._

Thankfully, Dean didn’t reciprocate. He _did_ tell them all to politely “fuck off,” a response that Castiel highly approved of. 

“Wait wait wait!” one girl interrupted, fiery red hair and a Harry Potter t-shirt. “I solemnly swear that I have never had sexual relations with Dean Winchester.”

Dean took a long drink from his beer before grinning at her. “You wanna change that?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, fixing his glasses. It stung, especially considering the fact that he was quite literally leaning against Dean’s side, but whatever. 

_You never had that conversation. You’re not exclusive. He can do whatever he wants._

“You wish, Winchester,” the girl responded, flipping her hair dramatically.

“So tell us, Dean,” Lisa settled a hand on his knee, blinking innocently at him. “Is Charlie the _only_ girl you haven’t slept with? Little sisters excluded,” she added, gesturing towards Jo before the blonde could speak up. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, but there was a cocky smile playing at his lips. “I like pretty things, what can I say?”

His words were absolutely dripping with that cocky flirtatiousness that came so second-hand to him, and the wink he gave Lisa didn’t help his case. Castiel just rolled his eyes, fairly certain that it was an act but sort of put off by it all the same. 

"Pretty things of the feminine  _and_ masculine variety," Lisa winked back at him, and if Castiel was surprised that Dean didn't even flinch he tried very hard not to show it.

"Amen," Dean raised his beer, taking a long swig. 

Castiel silently cursed himself, because apparently he _was_ the only one who had thought Dean was 100% straight. Everyone else seemed pretty much on board. Well, mostly everyone else. _  
_

“Pretty things like Cas?”

Silence fell over the group instantly, and Castiel felt his attention snap rapidly back to the conversation at hand. It was Jo who had spoken, and there was a smirk on her face that said this was every bit her intended reaction. She was looking entirely too pleased with herself, especially considering she’d managed to turn Dean's words against him.

_Shit shit shit._

Castiel glanced at Dean, catching his eye. He was frozen with his beer halfway to his lips, his mouth just slightly hanging open. Was Castiel supposed to say something? A light blush crept over Dean’s cheeks, and Castiel felt his own face heat up. 

“What?”

His gaze shifted over to Jo but she just raised an eyebrow at him, not put off at all by his tone or his stare. 

“No,” Dean said quietly when it became apparent that no one else was going to speak. His eyes fell back on Castiel's face, like he was talking directly to him. “No, not like Cas.” 

_Ouch. That hurt._

Nobody else spoke, and Castiel felt the insane need to get  _away_. There were too many eyes on him, too many people trying to figure out what was going on in his head. He was reminded, suddenly and almost violently, that he _wasn't_ a partygoer and these _weren't_ his thing for exactly this reason. Other people. It would look suspicious if he got up and left right then, but he really couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“I’m, going to get a drink,” he mumbled, sliding off the couch and walking towards the kitchen a little bit _too_ fast. He just hoped Dean wasn’t following him. 

A false hope, unfortunately. 

“Cas, wait,” Dean grabbed his wrist, gently tugging so Castiel would turn to face him. “Give me two seconds to—”

“Not right now, Dean,” Castiel hissed, tugging his hand away. They were far enough away from the listening group that he could speak freely, as long as he kept his voice down. “I get it if you don’t want to broadcast, _this_ ,” he gestured between the two of them, not sure how else to refer to whatever if was that they had—or didn’t have. “And I know we're not together. I get it. I do. But I'm not in the mood to be your secret. Not right now."

Before Castiel could even properly storm away Dean grabbed him, hands on either side of his neck and their lips crashing together. Castiel briefly considered pushing him away, but god _damn_ his lips felt like heaven. 

“You’re not my dirty little secret,” Dean breathed, barely pulling away to rest their foreheads together. “I’m not...I don't want that.”

“Then what was that?”

“I just…I dunno, man. You’re not some random hookup. But I told you I can't...”

His voice sounded quiet, almost strained, and Castiel could tell he wasn’t entirely comfortable saying this stuff out loud. Especially with all of his friends watching.

_ But that's about all I got to offer, right now. _

Dean's own words echoed in his memory, and Castiel wanted to slap himself. Dean had told him, had warned him how little he'd be able to offer. Castiel  _knew_ where they stood, and still he'd pushed. For  _more_. 

_You're such an asshole._

“Oh.” 

Castiel knew he’d already pushed Dean far enough. If there was one thing he knew about the guy already, it was that words weren’t his thing.  

Dean seemed to process the moment that Castiel decided to let it go, kissing him gently. Castiel melted. He wound his arms around Dean’s waist, pressing his body closer to Dean’s hard torso. Dean was giving him so much, so much more than he deserved, and he took every single drop. 

_This. Yes. I want this._

There were wolf whistles and cheering from behind them, and Castiel became very suddenly aware of the fact that his traitorous hands hand had found their way underneath Dean’s shirt while Dean’s hands wound their way into Castiel’s hair. With everyone watching. 

_Whoops._

“That was _so fucking cute!”_ the red-haired girl yelled, squealing loudly. 

Anna was smiling proudly at him, and he was pretty sure he heard Jo mumble something about “fucking _finally.”_

“You wanna, uh, go someplace else?” Dean grinned at him, his cheeks tinted pink. “Before I embarrass myself some more.”

Castiel’s skin heated up automatically, and he felt his own cheeks flush. He responded sort of automatically, his body not processing everything right then. 

“Probably smart, yes.”

Dean tugged on his fingers and started to walk away, and Castiel let himself be led out of the spacious room and down a long hallway, continuing up some stairs and into a room that Castiel assumed was Lisa’s. 

“Sure found your way up here easily,” Castiel commented, going for casual but not entirely sure that he managed to pull it off. He slipped his hand out of Dean’s grasp, rocking on the balls of his feet instead of sitting next to Dean at the foot of her neatly made bed. 

The room was all bright, soft colors, clean and organized and uniformly decorated. Nothing like Castiel’s meager facilities. He had to sort of laugh, because the comparison felt sort of similar to comparing himself to Lisa herself. She was all shiny hair and nice clothes and glowing skin, while he was bed-head and rumpled t-shirts and day old stubble. 

_That’s the alcohol talking._

That was probably true, even though he didn’t really feel drunk. But it was still funny. 

“Yeah, uh,” Dean tried to smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Guess I have a reputation.”

“Just a bit.”

Dean was quiet for a minute, looking like he had something he wanted to say but it was lodged in his throat. Castiel decided, for once, to fill the quiet. 

“Are you sure you don’t actually go here? You sure seem to know a lot of people.”

“Nah,” Dean laughed, sort of bitterly, dragging his hands over his face. “Not smart enough for a place like this.”

Castiel wanted to object, but he had a feeling that Dean wouldn’t take that well. 

“How do you know everybody then?” he continued, steering the conversation to more innocent waters. 

“Knew some people from high school. Like Jo. And I, uh, used to sit in on some classes. Ya know, big ones. Where the professors didn’t notice. That’s where I met Lisa.”

“Used to?”

Dean leaned back on his hands, chewing the inside of his cheek. His gaze seemed to drift someplace far away for a moment before he dragged himself back. 

“Yeah. Had to stop once Sammy started applying to schools. Picked up extra shifts at the garage, got us our own place. Man, Bobby’s great don’t get me wrong, but that kid needed out.”

Dean had a smile on his face, but it was a sad sort of nostalgic smile and Castiel knew there had to be more to it. He didn’t press though, just let Dean keep talking. 

“It was cool but, school’s never been my thing. Sammy is the smart one.”

Castiel let the silence hang for a moment before he spoke again. 

“Can’t you both be the smart one?”

The well-concealed look of surprise on Dean’s face was heartbreaking, like such a thing had never even _occurred_ to him. 

“I dunno, man.”

Castiel waited patiently, careful not to upset the delicate balance in the room. But when Dean’s eyes flicked up to meet his gaze and he reached a confident hand out, Castiel couldn’t refuse. Dean was apparently done talking. That was okay. He stepped forward slowly, letting Dean drag him into a warm embrace. Castiel stood between Dean’s bent knees, the other boy’s settled on his hips and his forehead resting on Castiel’s stomach. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel murmured, running both hands through Dean’s shorter hair, catching the longer strands on top. 

Dean inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh that sounded like it’d been pent up for a while. 

“Hiya, angel.”

Castiel bit back a smile. So Dean was at least a little bit drunk then, since that particular nickname had yet to come out in a moment of pure clarity. Even so, there was a fluttering in his stomach and an itchy, sort of exposed feeling spreading across his skin. 

“Lisa and I’ve been friends way longer than we were hooking up,” Dean mumbled, jumping back to a line of conversation that he was apparently more comfortable with. “Just so you know.”

“Sure.”

Castiel dropped his hands to his shoulders as Dean looked up at him, a knowing smile on his face. 

“So you’re the jealous type, huh?”

“Am not,” Castiel glared at him. He wasn’t. Dean’s past was no concern of his. Whoever he’d been sleeping with for however long, none of that mattered. Not really. His present, on the other hand...

“I believe you. You’re just looking a little green.”

Castiel huffed, turning away and having every intention of putting some distance between them. But he felt the pressure of Dean’s arm around his waist and suddenly he was flat on his back on Lisa’s bed with Dean on top of him and damn this was already happening _far_ too often. 

“You gotta stop trying to run away from me, skinny dude.”

“Maybe _you_ should stop…stopping me,” he snapped, trying for venom and landing somewhere in mildly scolding, at best. 

Dean laughed quietly, shifting his weight to the side, propping himself up on one elbow, and letting his other hand rest lightly on Castiel’s waist. Castiel squinted and tilted his head to the side, not really sure what Dean was getting at. Part of him was suggesting that he could probably get up right now, and Dean wouldn’t stop him, and part of him was focused on just how he could get Dean’s weight back on top of him. 

But then, that was probably exactly Dean’s plan. As often as he played the “I’m hot, you want me” card, he was giving Castiel a choice. Black and white. 

It felt like there was static electricity between them, like if Castiel closed the distance he would surely get shocked. The itchy feeling on his skin intensified, and the hand that moved up to the nape of Dean’s neck and pulled him down had done so completely of its own accord. 

Castiel could’ve said right then, with complete confidence, that he would never get tired of Dean’s lips. There was a kind of pressure behind the kiss, never demanding but needy all at the same time. Dean leaned his entire body into the kiss, his hand on Castiel’s waist tightening just slightly and his sharp inhale _almost_ inaudible. 

“These damn things,” he grumbled against Castiel’s lips, gently lifting his glasses off of the bridge of his nose. “Ya know, you should get contacts.”

“You’re really going to criticize me right now?” Castiel sighed, sliding his hands down to Dean’s hips and tugging a little bit until Dean’s weight shifted back on top of him. He couldn’t see him, but he could _feel_ his weight and _smell_ his skin and he kind of wished he did have contacts, just so he could see the look on his face. 

“Absolutely,” Dean’s lips brushed across Castiel’s neck, his teeth scraping gently along his jawline. “Only ‘cause I do actually like your nerd glasses.”

Castiel sighed, sliding his hands up Deans sides and up to the sides of his neck, dragging his lips—reluctantly—away from his neck and up to his mouth. He was feeling bold and he had every intention of taking advantage of it. Dean, for his part, didn’t seem to mind. He smiled against Castiel’s lips, his hips grinding down against Castiel’s with just enough barely-there friction to send his mind into all sorts of crazy spirals. 

One of Dean’s hands ran possessively up and down Castiel’s side slowly, the other sliding underneath his lower back and wrapping around his waist, so that Castiel’s body was arched just barely off of the bed. 

The kisses were slow and deep and Castiel just could _not_ get enough. There was a moment, when he accidentally sighed quietly into Dean’s mouth, that he felt the other boy’s grip tighten and thought for a moment that the scales might tip. Instead, Dean pulled away and rested his forehead against Castiel’s, breathing more heavily than he should’ve been. 

But then Castiel was certainly feeling out of breath too. 

“We should get back downstairs,” Dean mumbled, freeing his arm and grabbing both of Castiel’s hands with his own. He lowered them down to the bed, their fingers intertwined, but Castiel didn’t feel pinned down. “Lisa’ll kill me if we’re up here too long.”

Castiel let his smile peek out, just a little bit. 

“Well, get off of me then.”

He heard Dean huff a small laugh, and had to assume he was smiling because he still couldn’t see. Dean gave him one last, long, lingering kiss before releasing his hands and rolling to the side. 

“Glasses?” Castiel held out his hand, thankful that Dean didn’t make him wait too long. He slipped them back on to his face, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. 

And, well, he had to admit he was pretty pleased with just how ruffled Dean looked. Pink cheeks, messy hair, his flannel hanging off of one shoulder. 

“Looking a little debauched, Dean.”

Dean grinned at him, cocky as ever. He didn’t even bother running a hand through his hair to flatten it out, choosing to ruffle Castiel’s hair some more instead. 

“Bet you look worse than me.”

Castiel glared at him and swatted his hands away, but all Dean did was laugh. 

“Come on, Chewie. Back to the party.”

Dean wandered back into the living room, but Castiel decided to take a minute outside. His head was feeling fuzzy and his cheeks a little too warm, and yeah maybe he just needed a quick break from the inside of the house. 

He totally wasn’t avoiding the rest of the group, and it certainly had nothing to do with Dean. 

On his way out, he passed Dean’s group of asshole friends slouched in a corner, snickering and sort-of-whispering some incredibly uninventive insults as he walked by. In another life, Castiel might have cared. But right then, they weren’t even on his radar. 

He wandered out the back door, suddenly thankful for the rush of air against his face. He hadn’t realized how stifling the inside of the house was, and the coolness felt like heaven on his warm skin.

Castiel inhaled deeply, letting the relatively fresh air seep into his lungs. It was still LA, so it wasn’t _that_ fresh, but still. It was unseasonably chilly outside, and late enough that the rest of the partygoers were either inside or headed home already. The backyard of Lisa’s mansion was quiet and peaceful, and Castiel bathed in the momentary calm.

He tried, mostly in vain, to process what had just happened. What that very _public_ moment between them would mean, followed by the quieter moments in Lisa’s room. Castiel had to sort of laugh at the oddity of that. He wanted to talk about it, to figure out where they stood, where he _wanted_ to stand. Another part of him really _didn’t_ want to talk about it, didn’t even want to think about it. 

With thinking came analyzing and _over-_ analyzing and trying to figure out what the hell was going on inside Dean Winchester’s mind and _that_ was just a-whole-nother trip down the rabbit hole. 

But he wasn’t worried, not really. He felt _good._ Really good. Better than he’d felt in a while. And that’s exactly why he should’ve seen it coming. Should've suspected that someone would follow him outside.

“Looky here. Precious little Novak, outside all by himself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just apologize for this cliffhanger in advance. Don't hate me uwu
> 
> **Edit:** I made some changes here, it came to my attention that this sounded very much like the brief conflict between Dean and Cas was caused by Dean's sexuality, which is entirely not the case. It was not my intention to make it seem like the Dean in this story was in the closet, and it was _definitely_ not my intention to make it seem like Cas or Jo would try to out him (which is maybe what it sounded like here). I'm a strong believer in a Dean that is confident in his own sexuality, even if he doesn't totally understand it. So I guess the impression that you should have here is that Dean is 100% out, and up until Ch. 6 Cas just...didn't know about it. They don't know each other that well, after all, though they're working on it. Seeing as how this story is told from Castiel's perspective, up until that point it maybe _should_ be unclear as to what Dean's deal is and how out he is about it. After that, hopefully it's more clear. The conflict stems from Dean's issues with intimacy and commitment, which will (spoilers!) become reoccurring issues in this story. I apologize for the confusion, and I'll try to make this more clear in the future.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh my god.”
> 
> “Yeah, I know,” Castiel smiled bitterly. “Don’t I look pretty?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things.  
> 1\. I made some edits to last chapter after the initial post. check it out, or at least check the note at the end of the chapter!
> 
> 2\. This chapter gets _intense_ , especially right at the beginning. Consider this your official **warning!!!** for homophobic language, bullying, physical violence, and some talk about consent. None of this happens between Dean and Cas, but it does involve them. If this is problematic for you, please skip the first section of this chapter slash maybe just skip this chapter. In any case, read with caution.

“Looky here. Precious little Novak, outside all by himself.”

Castiel turned his body in the direction of the voice, his head swimming. Maybe he was a little less sober than he’d thought. 

“A pleasure, Gordon. As always.”

The smile on his face was dark and dangerous, and it gave Castiel the chills. His instincts were telling him to get back inside, but his pride stood its ground. 

“Saw your repulsive little display in there. And you know, the Dean Winchester I know isn’t some cock-sucking fag.”

Castiel flinched at his words. _He’s just some ignorant asshole. Ignore him. Don’t stoop to his level. You’re better than him._

His mouth decided differently. 

“Uh huh. More like you’d rather forget.”

“See, I don’t think so. ‘Cause I don’t think he even swings that way. I think it’s _you_.”

“Right,” Castiel practically snorted, fixing his glasses and shoving a hand through his messy hair. “Because I _turned_ him gay. I _made_ him be bi. That’s exactly how it works, especially since he came out before I even knew him.”

Gordon took two steps toward him, way closer than Castiel wanted him to be. He resisted the urge to step backwards, knowing that would just make things worse.

“Know what he didn’t do before he met you? Bring some little,” his lip curled and his gaze traveled up and down Castiel’s body, like he was some disgusting creature, “ _fairy_ home with him.”

Castiel inhaled sharply, throwing caution to the wind and stepping away from the vile stench that was Gordon’s voice. Gordon just laughed, stepping to the side and placing himself between Castiel and the entrance to the house. 

_Shit._

“Lemme ask you this. How much make-up you gotta put on til you can convince him to fuck you?"

Castiel clenched his fists and clamped his mouth shut, not trusting himself to say anything. 

_Ignore him. He doesn’t matter. Ignore him._

“Cause you gotta look like a little girl, right? Dean’s little princess? Bet you scream like a girl too, so Dean can just close his eyes and picture some blonde with huge tits instead of—”

“Stop it,” Castiel growled, his heart racing, his breathing coming too fast. Anger and hurt and frustration were bubbling under his skin, threatening to burst out at any second. 

Gordon just smiled, the fucking asshole. He was _enjoying_ this. 

“That’s not it, is it? You don’t need to pretend, you just get him fucking wasted first. Pour enough drinks down his throat, maybe some happy drugs, and you’re set. He’s so far gone he can’t even tell what he’s sticking his dick in, long as it’s wet.”

“That’s disgusting,” Castiel spoke, trying to keep his voice under control. “I do actually believe in a little something called _consent_.”

“Oh?” Gordan laughed again, and Castiel felt goosebumps rise on his arms. “You seriously think he wants it? That he _enjoys_ it? Sure, you’re a nice, tight hole to fuck,” he stepped forward, closing the distance between them and placing his fingers on Castiel’s throat, “can’t say I don’t envy him that. But—”

Castiel shoved his hand away, immediately taking more steps backwards. It felt like his skin was crawling, like slime where Gordon had touched him. 

“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re _jealous,”_ Castiel snarled, his body on fire. 

_“What?”_ Gordon stalked closer to him, but Castiel stood his ground. 

“Tell me, how long have you had a huge crush on him?”

“Shut the fuck up, fag.”

“How many times have you fantasized about him?”

Gordon grabbed Castiel’s shirt with one hand, fisting his hand in the material and pulling him off balance. 

“I said _shut the fuck up.”_

Castiel’s brain was screaming at him to retreat, to back off _right fucking now_. He didn’t. 

“How long have you wanted to fuck De—”

The next couple of seconds felt like a complete out of body experience. It was like he was standing to the side, watching Gordon pull his fist back and swing in slow motion. His fist landed on Castiel’s left eye with a sickening crunch, his glasses shattering and tiny pieces slicing his skin. He heard the sound before he felt any pain, then a sudden sheet of black blanketed his vision and he felt his body collapse on the ground. Before he could even curl in to protect himself a heavy kick hit his gut, and he was fairly certain he felt something crack. His ears were ringing and his head was spinning, and this time he didn’t think it was because of the alcohol. 

_“Next time, I won’t stop.”_

Castiel barely heard Gordon speak, but his words sent a chill straight to his bones. 

_Get up. You’re fine. Get out of there. Get up._

It took a couple of minutes before he was actually able to do it. He managed to drag himself up, despite the protests from his ribs, getting his feet barely stable underneath him. His left eye was already swollen shut and his glasses were broken beyond repair, but he just hoped the right lens survived enough for him to find his way home. 

He stumbled out the back gate and squinted around for a street sign, studiously ignoring the throbbing in his head and the vibration of his phone in his pocket. His side was throbbing, a piercing pain with every inhale.

_Home. Sleep._

It wasn’t an easy task, and more than one group of people stopped to ask if he needed help, but he eventually made it home. His right eye was worn out and tired from straining so hard to see through a shattered lens, but it had served him well. 

It took him a couple of minutes to get his keys into the lock, his thoughts feeling jumbled and incoherent. When he finally flopped down on his bed and wrapped himself up in his comforter, it felt like the entire world was spinning out of control around him. His cheeks were wet and he realized belatedly that he must’ve been crying, but that didn’t seem important. What _did_ seem important was falling asleep, and maybe getting a break from the pain in his side. 

Castiel pulled out his phone and glanced at it quickly, not really caring much what it said and quite honestly, struggling to piece together the letters into words.

**1:28am Dean:** _come back youre taking forever_

**1:47am Dean:** _yo. Cas._

**2:01am Dean:** _whered you go????_

**2:06am Dean:** _Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaas_

**2:07am Anna:** _cant find you. stop making out with dean and hang out with me brat_

**2:19am Dean:** _did you leave?_

**2:20am Dean:** _did i do something??_

**2:35am Anna:** _you're not with dean………starting to worry castiel………_

**2:57am Dean:** _come on cas. you're freakin me out._

**3:12am Dean:** _if you're mad fine. just tell me youre ok._

After that was two missed calls, both from Anna. _Whoops. How long had it taken him to get home?_ He sent her a quick text, just to let her know that he was alive and at home. He didn’t send anything to Dean. 

About an hour later, or at least what felt like about an hour later, Castiel was dragged out of his fitful sleep by knocking on his door. Part of him thought about climbing out of bed to see who it was, but that sounded like a lot of work and his aching body protested even the thought of moving.

Then his phone started ringing, Dean calling. 

_He’s at the door. Answer it._

He wanted to. He did. But then he thought about how scary he must look with his swollen eye, how dirty and itchy he felt after his confrontation with Gordon. 

He couldn’t handle Dean right now. 

So he pulled his comforter over his head and switched his phone to silent. Anna knew where he was. Dean would figure it out. 

***

_“Castiel Novak you open this goddamn door right now or I swear to God I will neuter you!”_

What a way to wake up. 

Castiel dragged himself out of bed, his thoughts muddled and his head swimming. It felt like he was having the worst migraine of his life, and Anna’s incessant yelling wasn’t helping. He shoved his broken glasses onto his face, making a mental note to order a new pair since the broken right lens was hardly enough to go by. 

At least his left eye wasn’t _completely_ swollen shut anymore. That was something. 

Anna was still yelling and pounding on the door when Castiel finally cracked it open, a hand gingerly cupping his side. 

“Can you stop shouting please?”

Anna froze, her mouth open in a little “o”. 

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, I know,” Castiel smiled bitterly. “Don’t I look pretty?”

His own words stung more than he’d like to admit. 

He turned and walked over to the couch, curling up in one corner and resting his chin on his bent knees. Anna shut the door and went straight into the kitchen, emerging a couple of minutes later with two bags of frozen peas wrapped up in paper towels. 

Who even knew he _had_ frozen peas. 

She gingerly removed his glasses and placed the bag against the outside of his eye, shushing him when he winced at the pressure. She placed the other bag in his hand, pressing it against his side.

“Hold this. Tell me what happened.”

Castiel talked her through the entirety of the confrontation in the backyard, skimming over some of the more graphic points. He wished he could see her, see her reaction, but she just looked like a blur. 

“What a fucking asshole.”

He huffed a small laugh at Anna’s harsh language, knowing how rare it was for her to talk like that.

“I’m inclined to agree.”

"And you! You...you stupid idiot! You probably had a concussion or something and you just went to sleep! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

Castiel winced. She was right. It was stupid and risky and he definitely hadn't been all there when he fell asleep. 

"I know. I'm sorry."

Anna was quiet for a second or two before she spoke again. 

“Why didn’t you go find Dean? Or me?”

Castiel stared down at his hands, sort of embarrassed at his behavior. 

“I couldn’t face him, not like that. I don’t know I just panicked.”

Anna hummed and stroked his hair, easily shifting into every bit the mother figure that he needed right then. He leaned into her, exhaustion and weariness tearing through his body. 

“He was really worried about you. He called me like, totally freaking out because he couldn’t find you.”

“I’m an adult,” Castiel sighed heavily. “I can take care of myself.”

“So we’re not allowed to care what happens to you? Sorry sweetie, but you’re not invincible.”

Castiel didn’t respond. He knew he was being stupid. It actually sort of warmed him that Dean was worried, but that just made him feel guilty.

“What happened? When he went back into the living room?”

“Not much,” Anna hummed. “A couple of guys made jokes about the PDA, which Dean didn’t seem thrilled about. But Jo graphically threatened them all individually and that seemed to shut them up.”

“I was afraid that would happen,” Castiel mumbled, his guilt doubling. He shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it. This was _exactly_ why he shouldn’t have pushed, should’ve just let Dean handle it however he wanted. 

_Shit shit shit._

“Honey, Dean is an adult too. He can take care of himself.”

Castiel didn’t respond, preferring to stew in his own grumpiness rather than admitting that Anna was completely right. Castiel hadn’t been alone in putting their… _thing_ on display. Dean could handle a little bit of shit from his friends. 

“I think he came here, last night,” Castiel mumbled after a few minutes of silence. “Somebody was knocking on the door.”

“I know.”

He turned to look at her, her red hair distinct even without his glasses. 

“How…?”

“Don’t move so much,” she fixed the bag of peas, finding a better position on his face. “He was at your door when he called me. Said you weren’t answering the door or your phone. I told him you were probably sleeping. He didn’t seem too pleased that you texted me and ignored him.”

_Great._

“You need to talk to him, Castiel. Text, call, I don’t care. Something.”

“I don’t _need_ to do anything,” he snapped. They weren’t together. He didn’t owe Dean anything. He tried valiantly to remind himself that, even as guilt and this insane desire to be wrapped up in Dean’s arms flooded his system. 

“Castiel, come on. I thought you guys were in a good place, after the whole thing last night.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s my damn boyfriend,” Castiel grumbled, getting more and more frustrated with himself as he spoke. He couldn’t really blame Anna for feeling the same. 

“Quit being so stubborn,” she snapped. “You just need to—”

“Anna. Stop. I’ll deal with it.”

The snap of her jaw closing was almost audible, and Castiel could sense the annoyance rolling off of her in waves. 

“Fine.”

They were quiet, for a few minutes. Castiel felt even more guilty, now that he’d pissed off Anna. He wished he understood why he was so reluctant to see or even talk to Dean. He hadn’t even done anything wrong. He was just…embarrassed. He didn’t want to face him last night, and he didn’t want to face him today. He didn’t want to recount the horrible things that Gordon had said, didn’t want to see the look of disgust on Dean’s face. 

Didn’t want to think about whether or not there was any truth to Gordon’s words.

No thank you. 

“Anna? Can you help me get to the eye clinic?” he laughed bitterly. “I need new glasses.”

Anna sighed heavily, placing the bag of peas on the table and handing Castiel his ruined glasses so he could sort of see _something_. 

“Of course. Let’s go.”

***

Monday morning didn’t bring any relief, aside from a small improvement in his headache. His side hurt worse than ever, feeling stiff and even more sore. The gigantic bruise that had blossomed across his left side, red and purple and angry looking, had spread even more. 

His eye, for its part, was getting uglier too. The bruise had blackened over the last day, blood pooling in the white space in the corner of his eye. 

He stared at the bruises in the mirror in his bathroom, gingerly tracing his fingers over the skin. Even that kind of hurt. Lifting his left arm was pure torture. Anna had given him some cover-up to improve the look of his eye, since he couldn’t exactly hide it, but he couldn’t find the willpower to put it on. Maybe last week he would have. But this week…

He couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Not after the comments that Gordon had made. 

Class was pure torture, and he had literally never been so thankful to have a class that was only an hour long. He got a text from Dean sometime in the middle of it, but he deleted it without reading it. 

Thank God their two weeks were over.

***

Castiel was in class at 8:15 sharp on Tuesday morning, before the professor, fellow students, or any models had even arrived. Castiel took a seat in the back row, closing his eyes and running his fingers through his hair. 

He’d been thinking about texting Dean all morning. His phone had been silent since the one single message the previous morning, and it was sort of killing him. Dean should probably know what had happened, and it wasn’t like any of it was his fault anyway. But Castiel just couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Anna arrived a couple minutes before the bell rang, and bless her heart she didn’t say a word about the worsening bruise on his face. Their professor arrived a minute or so later, a line of potential models in tow. Castiel and Anna exchanged a few whispers, trying to decide which ones they wanted. 

Castiel made sure to pick a couple, since their professor seemed determined to make him pick last. 

There was a shy looking brunette who was promising, and a softer, short haired girl with green eyes and freckles that was _far_ too familiar. Meg was back, too, and she made sure to wink at Castiel when Anna chose her. As far as the guys went, there were several Castiel thought he could work with. One with a tuft of bleach blonde hair on top of his head, thin arms and prominent cheekbones. Another with dark skin and a buzz cut, and Castiel had all sorts of ideas for him. 

But, of course, they all got picked. The guy Castiel actually ended up with was blonde, so that was a plus, but he had a puffed up air about him and Castiel would bet large amounts of money that he had an accent. 

He was right. 

“Balthazar,” he smiled, one that Castiel was sure had worked on a fair amount of girls in his life. “You are?”

“Castiel. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

They made plans to meet up at Castiel’s apartment for a preliminary shoot later that afternoon, once Castiel was done with classes. Thankfully Digital Photography was fairly painless, and he got through it without talking to any of his classmates. 

English Lit was never easy. 

“Holy _shit,_ Clarence, nice shiner,” Meg drawled, taking the seat to his left. He couldn't very well ask her to leave, but he wanted to. 

“Ever so subtle,” he mumbled, fixing his glasses on his nose. The lenses were a little bigger than his old ones, but he hadn’t felt like waiting around for _exactly_ the same frames. Still, it took a little bit of adjustment. 

“What happened?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, feeling particularly jaded and grumpy from the stiffness in his side and the headache behind his eye. “I was struck with overwhelming ignorance and stupidity, with a touch of testosterone and a dash of anabolic steroids.”

“But of course,” Meg laughed, but Castiel could see the pity in her eyes. “Do I need to kill someone?”

She put a hand on his cheek, and for once it felt like comfort and not some ill-fated attempt to seduce him. 

“You assume I didn’t already take care of it.”

“Sorry, I was just going off the huge fucking bruise on your face.”

“You should see the other guy, then,” Castiel smirked, going for bored and fairly certain he pulled it off. 

Meg didn’t ask about Dean, or who did it, or why, or anything else about that weekend. And for that, he was infinitely thankful. 

***

Castiel arrived back at his apartment at 12:28, only to find an empty stoop. He hadn’t, truthfully, expected anything else. But it still wasn’t great. 

Balthazar arrived a few minutes later, and after some explanation about the two weeks to come, they got to work. Balthazar sat in Castiel’s chair just how he was supposed to, not moving the chair or wandering around the room or staring off into the distance. He was _good_ , and was obviously comfortable in front of the camera. 

He made light conversation too, which was surprisingly pleasant. He asked Castiel about his project, about things he did and didn’t like his models to do. He asked about his other classes, and Castiel did the same. He also never asked about Castiel’s black eye, which was a relief. Balthazar was an amusing guy, and the camera liked him, and it was _easy._

Castiel resisted the urge to breathe a heavy sigh of relief. This was what he needed. Simple. Professional. 

Around 2 o’clock, there was a knock on Castiel’s door. He answered it, without even thinking, without glancing through the peephole to see who it might be. 

He didn’t expect it to be Dean, but he somehow wasn’t surprised. The cocky grin fell off of Dean’s face _immediately_ , replaced by pain and guilt and, more than anything else, _rage._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way, yes. you can totally fill a glasses prescription on a Sunday. don't question it. 
> 
> I also don't know where this rush of chapters came from, but the boys were out to play so I figured I might as well post. The next chapter is more like the second half of this one, so be prepared for that. I'll post it like...in a couple of days? maybe less? who knows...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can you tell me what happened?”
> 
> “Are you feeling less murderous?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept this offering of Dean being a protective asshole. Gotta love him.
> 
> p.s. This is probably the last really rapid update I'll be able to do, I have midterms and stuff coming up. I'll try not to make you wait too terribly long though uwu

Castiel couldn’t even speak, pinned down by his green gaze. 

“Cas…” Dean’s voice sounded on the edge of breaking, into a whimper or a growl Castiel wasn’t sure. His fingers slowly came up to touch Castiel’s temple, warm against his skin. 

And Castiel almost let him. He flinched away instead, turning his face to the side and trying his best to hide the bruised eye. 

“Tell me what happened,” Dean said, his voice forcefully soft. It still rumbled though, and Castiel was inexplicably excited by that. Dean’s fingers were soft on his chin, urging Castiel to turn his face back towards him. 

No thank you. 

“None of your business.”

“Cas,” Dean growled, his calm breaking. He was _pissed off_ and, apparently, tired of hiding it. He took a step forward and held Castiel’s chin with his thumb, forcing him to look straight and meet his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

His grip was firm, but it didn’t hurt. And even when Castiel tried to turn his face away, Dean stopped him. 

“It _none of your business,”_ Castiel snapped, flexing his hands against Dean’s torso and pushing him away. “And you can’t bully me into telling you.”

It was a low blow, but it was purposeful. Dean released him immediately, looking disgusted with himself. 

“I’m not bullying you,” he breathed, his voice low and sounding dangerous. 

Castiel turned away and crossed his arms, trying to look angry as he walked into the living room but flinching at the pain in his side. 

_Shit that hurts._

“Then quit acting like it.”

“I’m not…” Dean groaned, and Castiel turned around in time to see him step through the doorway and shut the door, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t…”

He caught Castiel’s eye, who just tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in response. Dean took a deep breath, walking towards him slowly with a mask of calm that didn’t fool Castiel for a second. He might still be getting to know him, but Castiel could pick out the hard line of his lips and the tension in his shoulders. 

This time, when Dean stepped into his space, Castiel let him do it. He settled a hand on the side of Castiel’s neck, the side without the black eye, which was all well and good until his other hand found its way to Castiel’s side and squeezed. He tried not to flinch in pain, he really did, but _ow._

Dean’s hand snapped back, and Castiel watched as his calm visibly shattered again. 

“Can I?” he managed, his voice practically shaking with anger. Castiel just nodded, staring down at the ground. 

Dean’s hand stayed on his neck as the other one lifted the hem of Castiel’s t-shirt slowly. Castiel _knew_ how bad the bruise was, and it still caught him off guard. So if Dean had had an extreme reaction, Castiel would have understood. 

The relaxed, controlled rage was much scarier. 

His green eyes were absolutely burning, and there was an addictive sort of tension in his fingers against Castiel’s skin, his voice lower than Castiel had ever heard it. He inhaled and exhaled one single time, the muscles in his jaw clenching and betraying his control. 

“Tell. Me. Who. Hurt. You.”

A chill ran down Castiel’s spine. 

_Holy shit._

Castiel could have answered him, could have just told him. But he didn’t. Because Dean was pissed off, and Dean was looking for a fight. So Castiel pushed him. 

“Why?” he said fired back, stepping closer to Dean and blinking up at him. He slipped his arms around Dean’s waist, catching his sharp inhale and trying not to smile triumphantly. 

“So I can fucking kill them,” Dean growled. Castiel bit back another smile. 

“I can take care of myself, Dean.”

“I know,” his voice softened, and his hand slid into Castiel’s hair. “Doesn’t mean I can’t help. Are you okay?”

“Don’t I look okay?”

Dean just stared at him, not even cracking a smile at his sarcasm. 

“Don’t fuck with me right now, Cas.”

_Yikes._

“I’m fine, Dean. A little sore, but all in one piece.”

Dean tugged him forward gently and kissed him, harder and with more teeth than usual, but Castiel didn’t mind. He tried to remember why he had been avoiding Dean the last couple of days, but he only came up with one reasonable excuse. 

He hadn’t thought Dean was his to dump problems on. Apparently he was wrong.

He slid his hands underneath Dean’s shirt, feeling him smile against his lips. 

“Your hands are friggin’ cold, dude.”

Castiel just slid his hands further up in response, happy to hear Dean’s voice almost back to normal. It was still a little bit too growly, but it was better. 

“Well if this isn’t just the sweetest soap opera ever.”

Castiel jumped at the sound of the accented voice, whirling around to face the studio. 

_Shit. Balthazar._

“Uh,” Castiel said, every useful word fleeing his brain. 

“Forget about little old me?” Balthazar grinned, leaning on the door frame, and who even knows how long he’d been there. 

“Who the fuck are you,” Dean growled, before Castiel could even speak. He turned to face him, raising an eyebrow and resisting the smile that tugged at his lips. 

“Who’s the jealous one now?”

Dean just glared at him, but Castiel did manage to slip out of his grasp. 

“Balthazar, I think we’re done for today. You can come back tomorrow afternoon?”

“I get it,” he sighed, disappearing into the studio for a moment and reappearing a second later with his jacket in hand. “The boyfriend arrives and you forget all about me.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Castiel corrected automatically. He only had a shot or two left anyway, and they’d already done plenty for a prelim shoot. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He ushered Balthazar out of the apartment, all too aware of how Dean stood and glared at him the entire time. Castiel ignored him, taking a seat on the couch and tucking his feet up to his chest, despite his aching ribs. 

“You know, you can’t just glare at all of my future models.”

“I can do whatever the hell I want,” Dean grumbled, walking over to the couch and sitting on the floor next to Castiel instead of at the opposite end. 

“Yes, alpha male, we get it.”

“Quit calling me that.”

“Is it inaccurate?”

“Yeah, it is,” he growled, and Castiel could hear him getting more and more riled up.

“Well you’re being archaic,” Castiel snapped, his patience wearing thin. He was trying to understand Dean’s perspective, but he couldn’t be expected to respond well to Dean treating him like some kind of property, _especially_  considering how utterly undefined all of this stuff between them was. 

Dean grumbled something unintelligible in response. Castiel just waited, figuring Dean would speak when he was ready. 

“Sorry. Guess I’m a little on edge.”

“Shocking.”

Dean huffed a small laugh, and his posture relaxed a little bit. 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Are you feeling less murderous?”

Dean laughed, running his hand through his hair with a bit less force than he had used earlier. 

“Can’t guarantee no bodily harm, but death is off the table.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed, letting Dean wind their fingers together. It was comforting, but he still couldn’t look him in the eyes as he spoke. 

“I went outside, and I guess Gordon decided to follow me,” Dean’s fingers tightened, which was hilarious because the story hadn’t even really started. “He seems to be of the belief that you’re not really bi, that I _made_ you be like this.”

Castiel could practically hear Dean grinding his teeth, his grip vice-like on Castiel’s hand. 

“Then he asked me how much make-up I had to put on, or how many drugs I had to pump into you to convince you to fuck me. Said I had to be your little princess, like there was no way you’d be interested otherwise. Then he put his hand on my throat and said he envied you, because I was probably ‘a nice tight fuck.’ And I just snapped. Told him he was jealous because _he_ wasn’t fucking you. Granted, I’m not either, but it seemed like a valid thing to say at the time. Obviously he didn’t take that well.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean grumbled, and Castiel full out laughed at that. 

“Thank you, Dean. For the overwhelming comfort.”

He was finally able to make eye contact again, which was a relief. 

“I fucking knew it’d be Gordon, homophobic asshole that he is. He’s pulled that, ‘you’re not gay’ shit before, I’ve known him for a hell of a long time so I guess it’s been…weird for him. But there was never anyone for him to take it out on.”

The end of his sentence hung in the air, clearly unfinished. And Castiel was finally starting to piece together Dean’s hesitance. 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah fucking right,” Dean stared down at his lap and fiddled with Castiel’s fingers, his shoulders hunched more than usual. The small amount of anger that had seeped out of him earlier seemed to have come back with a vengeance. “I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.”

Castiel was learning, rapidly, what tactics did and didn’t work on Dean. What kinds of things he responded to. Words, sometimes. _Kind_ words, never. Sexual advances, most of the time. Instructions, almost always. 

“Sure you are. Before you do, think you could whip up some lunch? Feeling pretty hungry.”

“What, am I your kitchen boy now?” Dean laughed, his tone warming up almost immediately. 

Castiel leaned his head back against the arm of the couch and shut his eyes, ignoring the smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

“Hmm. I think I’d like peanut butter and jam.”

“Yes sir, drill sergeant,” Dean mumbled. sounding grumpy still. But he got up and wandered into the kitchen, so Castiel’s plan seemed to have worked. 

He returned a few minutes later, two plates in hand. 

“Move your feet.”

Castiel lifted his feet off the couch, letting Dean sit before settling his legs across his lap. 

“No please, stretch out, by all means.”

“Oh, stop it,” Castiel snatched one of the plates out of his hand, wincing at the spike of pain in his side. “If you’re going to be pissy all day you might as well just go home.”

“Fat fucking chance.”

Dean picked his own sandwich up and took a bite, inspecting Castiel as he nibbled on his own sandwich. 

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Dunno,” Dean shrugged, like that was explanation enough. “Is it broken?” 

He nodded towards Castiel’s side, so he figured he must’ve been talking about his ribs. 

“I don’t think so. Just bruised.”

Dean didn’t really respond, but Castiel got the impression that it placated him, just a little bit. 

They flicked on the TV a few minutes later, and Dean wordlessly handed the remote to Castiel to pick something. He settled on the history channel—some documentary about the origins of democracy—and was utterly surprised when Dean only complained 7 times in the first hour. His mood had drastically calmed though, so maybe a boring documentary was just what he needed. 

“This is quite literally the most boring thing I’ve ever watched.”

“I apologize, I know you prefer mindless with lots of explosions.”

“There doesn’t have to be explosions,” Dean laughed, his hands moving on Castiel’s legs. “ _Some_ action would be nice. Anything other that this guy’s friggin’ voice.”

Well, he was kind of right. The narrator’s voice was pretty dull. 

“You pick something then.”

Castiel tossed the remote at him, much to Dean’s excitement. They settled on a marathon of  _The Most Extreme_ , which Castiel thought was incredibly generous seeing as how Dean had found  _Transformers_ on a different channel. Dean poked fun at Castiel’s obsession with “friggin’ nature shows”, but justified his decision by saying that “this narrator has a cooler voice.” 

Castiel definitely didn’t believe him. 

"I'm just surprised."

"Dude. _Listen_ to this guy. And the show is literally  _most extreme killers_. How could I not be into that?" Dean drummed his hands on Castiel's legs.  _"Discover the difference between the quick, and the dead,"_ he laughed, imitating the voice on screen. Castiel couldn't help but laugh along, the likeness was just too uncanny.  _"When the top ten most dangerous animals are taken to The. Most. Extreme!"_

And then they were both laughing, and the narrator continued to be ridiculous, but they still whole-heartedly enjoyed it.

***

Castiel woke up at some point, which was odd because he didn’t remember ever falling asleep. Although he did remember getting sleepy during _The Most Extreme: Diggers_. He had a crick in his neck from the couch and his side felt more sore than usual, and maybe more importantly there was no warm body underneath his legs. He was curled towards the back of the couch, his face smushed into the cushions and his glasses weren’t on his face. He stretched as much as he was able, feeling the pull uncomfortably in his side. It wasn’t quite as sharp as it had been, so maybe that was a good sign. 

He groped blindly around on the arm of the couch, thankfully finding his glasses resting there. Castiel shoved them onto his face and rolled over to turn off the TV that was still quietly playing, practically jumping off the couch when he rolled over to find someone sitting on the floor next to him. 

“Jesus Christ,” he grumbled, feeling his heart racing. 

“Nah, just me,” Dean grinned, muting the TV and turning halfway around to kiss Castiel warmly. He hummed against Dean’s lips, his eyelids still heavy with sleep. 

"You don't have to mute it. Don't you want to know what's the most extreme..." he paused, not sure what episode they were on now. 

_"Freaky fliers_. And it's fine, probably gonna be another friggin' bug."

"What makes you say that?" Castiel murmured, trying not to smile. He couldn't really help the sarcasm that seeped into his voice. 

"It's  _always_ a bug. Killers was a mosquito. A  _mosquito_ , dude. And diggers? Guess what diggers was?" 

Dean leaned forward and kissed him again, long and deep, their tongues barely brushing for just a moment and leaving Castiel wanting  _more._

"Do tell."

"A  _termite_. Are you kidding me? A termite?"

"What did you expect?"

"I dunno," Dean carded his fingers through Castiel's hair, kissing him and letting their lips brush as he spoke. "A mole, or somethin'. Maybe a naked mole rat."

"Alas, it is the termite," Castiel let his eyes fall closed, feeling sleepy and content. 

"There was  _pirates_ , while you were out. It was an Amazon Ant. I've never even  _heard_ of that."

Castiel just smiled a little bit, too focused on Dean's fingers in his hair to really respond. 

"You maybe shouldn't go back to sleep," Dean tugged him closer, pressing their lips together, deep and full of promises. Castiel's body perked up  _immediately._ He leaned into it, itching to be closer, only to have Dean pull away with a stupid, cocky grin on his face.  “Come on, bedhead. Up.”

“What time is it?”

“Like, seven. We’ll have dinner or something, yeah?”

“I want…” Castiel pondered for a second. “I don’t know. What do you want?”

Dean kissed him again, lingering at first and heating up _way_ too quickly. Castiel was the one to pull away first. 

“That’s not an answer.”

“You’re no fun. I was thinking tacos.”

Tacos sounded good. 

Castiel had a really good night, all things considered. He had a terrible black eye and sore, bruised ribs, and he was fairly certain that the guy in his apartment meant trouble for him, but he couldn’t care. If he thought too hard about it, he’d have to question it. How they’d gone from Dean being his model to whatever the hell they were doing now. All Castiel really knew was that it had been _way_ too easy, and he was in no mood to dig deeper than that. 

Dean hadn’t felt like cooking, so he ran out and bought tacos. That meant no clean-up, which Castiel was pleased with. After eating he striped off his flannel flopped down on the couch on his front, grumbling about his stuffed stomach. 

“You could’ve just eaten less,” Castiel replied, wandering into his studio to grab his camera and a roll of film. He was getting that itchy feeling in his hands again, and he was fairly certain that Dean was in a good enough mood to humor him. 

“Why do you have that?” Dean asked him suspiciously. 

“None of your business.”

Castiel sat on the couch, which really meant sitting on top of Dean’s legs. He didn't really seem to mind though. Castiel loaded the film and wound up the camera testing the lighting of the room. It wasn’t great, since it was dark outside, but he could make due with some longer exposures. 

He pressed his nose against the camera, snapping a picture when the light from the TV hit Dean’s face. 

“I thought we were done with you taking pictures of me.”

“No,” Castiel hummed, taking another picture when Dean attempted to cover his face with his arms. “You just don’t get paid for it anymore. And quit moving.”

“‘Cause that’s _so_ much better,” Dean laughed, his voice muffled. 

“Just ignore me.”

“Yeah, right. Dude, your camera is like the loudest thing in the world.”

“I’m sure there are louder things, Dean.”

Castiel felt a smile tug at his mouth, taking another picture when Dean swung an arm back to try to block him. 

“Doubtful.”

Castiel had to take a couple more pictures with Dean trying to stop him, but he seemed to give up eventually. “Seemed to” being the key phrase. 

In a moment of relaxation, when Castiel had the camera sitting in his lap and his attention was focused on the TV, Dean took action. 

He twisted his body around in a way that Castiel wouldn’t have guessed was possible, snatching the camera off of Castiel’s lap and wrapping the strap around his wrist to secure it. 

“Dean! What are you _doing?”_

“Giving you a taste of your own damn medicine,” he laughed, putting the camera up to his eye and snapping what was probably an incredibly blurry and an incredibly unflattering picture of Castiel. 

“Stop it.”

He tried to sound demanding, but Dean just grinned at him, his cockiness overflowing. 

_“Make me.”_

Castiel did his very best, but Dean had both size and weight to his advantage. Castiel’s desperate attempts ended with both of them on the floor, Dean holding the camera just out of reach and snapping picture after picture after _picture_ , all of which were probably terrible. 

_God damn idiot._

While Dean just laughed and pried Castiel’s hands off of him, surprisingly gentle and never once touching Castiel’s injured side, Castiel was growing increasingly frustrated. 

“Dean you are wasting my film. So give it _back_ , right _now.”_

“Sorry, Cas, you’re gonna have to ask nicer than that.”

_You wanna play dirty? Let’s play dirty._

Dean was already sitting on the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him, so Castiel straddled his hips and shoved him backwards. Dean grunted when his back hit the ground, laughing in surprise when Castiel kissed him forcefully. 

This kiss was hungry and annoyed, and Castiel threw all of his fight into it. Dean threw right back. When Castiel heard the camera click he held still, gripping the nape of Dean’s neck to force him to do the same. 

They probably weren’t even in frame, and the lighting was probably all wrong, but he might as well hold still for the long exposure. Just in case. 

When he pulled back they were both breathing heavy. This time it felt justified, even if it was _mostly_ caused by breathing each other’s air. Dean’s green eyes were deep, beckoning him in and he very much wanted to drown himself in them. 

Castiel had the sudden urge to ask Dean to stay. To wrap himself up in that leather and car oil smell of him all night long. And that’s what snapped him out of it. He clung to the rush of panic that followed that urge, to the stinging in his side, to the racing of his heart. 

Anything except the taste of Dean’s mouth. 

He tore his gaze away, reaching up and taking the camera out of Dean’s hand. Castiel climbed off his lap and stood up, taking his camera into his studio and returning a moment later. 

“So, thanks for dinner. And for the company. But I should be getting to bed. Class tomorrow.”

Dean’s face fell. Just for a second. Then his grin was back, and for the first time Castiel was 100% sure that it was fake. 

“Yeah, sure. No problem, man. I’ll get out of your hair.”

He sounded perfectly carefree, and it was unsettling how well he pulled it off. Castiel watched as Dean walked down the stairs and disappeared. He almost stopped him. 

Almost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s., The Most Extreme (for those of you who are old and in your 20's like me) is an Animal Planet show that I'm pretty sure stopped airing in like 2008. Could I have picked a more relevant show for them to watch? Yes. Do I think Dean would just get a kick out of how dramatic it is, and then get pissed when the #1 is always a bug or some weird sea critter? Yes. So whatever. Humor me. If you care, here's the episode they were watching: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6LxRXlIxlJU


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean,” Castiel said firmly, trying to put some authority in his voice. It didn’t really work. He could practically hear the sex in Dean’s voice, already felt his body responding. 
> 
> “Cas,” Dean grinned up at him, his tone mocking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so terribly, miserably sorry that this took so long. I've been trying to write for _weeks_ and I just hate everything I put on paper. Or on Word, as it were. I was so completely and utterly unhappy with the direction the story was going, the direction _all_ of my stories were going, and I just could not for the life of me get something down that I liked. So here is something. I'm still not sure I like it. So I'm sorry. I also kept slipping into present tense, for some reason, and I don't have a beta to catch these things for me so if you notice something wrong, please tell me!

“Wait wait. Back up,” Anna squinted her eyes and waved her hands, her mouth twisted into a confused frown. “I don’t get it. Why did you freak out?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel groaned, burying his face in the pillow on her bed. It smelled like Anna, and not like leather which is what he _really_ wanted. “I did it. I got in over my head. And now I’m screwed. Screwed right to hell.”

“Well I sure hope so,” Anna smiled at him, the feigned innocence in her smile betrayed by her teasing tone. He lifted his head just long enough to glare at her, not dignifying that comment with a response. “Okay, sorry, serious. As in, I seriously don’t understand why you freaked out so hard.”

Anna crossed her arms and poked his butt with her toe, encouraging him to roll over and face her. He did, trying to ignore the stiffness that was lingering in his side. It was still uncomfortable, noticeably so, but not quite as sharp as it had been. 

“Talk to me sweetie,” she tried again, concern filling her eyes. 

“I like him, Anna,” Castiel sighed, feeling frustrated. “I like him a lot.”

She just smiled at him, sort of sadly, and Castiel knew he didn’t have to clarify. Because Castiel didn’t fall for people. Ever. And he was falling for Dean. 

Fast. 

“You know that running away from it isn’t the answer.”

_Debatable._

“I’m not _running_ I just…He doesn't feel the same.”

“So you guys talked about it then.”

Anna’s gaze pierced right through him, her lips pursed and her usual sass practically oozing out of her pores. 

“Not exactly.”

“There better be a very good ‘but’ on the way.”

“ _But,”_ Castiel emphasized, “he already said he doesn’t want more. Which is fine. I just need a minute to…”

He let his voice trail off. _Get a handle on myself. Get this crush under control. Forget about the green eyes practically burned into my retinas. Develop all those pictures and stare at that freckled skin for hours. Wonder if it tastes as wonderful as his lips. Decide if his scruff would feel as good scraping up against_ other _places. Imagine clothes being stripped off again, for far more entertaining purposes this time…_

_Shit. Shit shit shit._

Now was really not the time for his mind to run away on him, but his overeager imagination didn’t seem to have gotten the memo. 

“Castiel. You are my best friend. And I love you. But you are being a huge idiot.”

“So kind,” Castiel mumbled, fixing his glasses and staring down at his lap. He didn’t like being reprimanded, especially by Anna. 

“My turn to be serious. Didn’t we _just_ go through this? Literally _three days_ ago?”

“No.”

That was totally different. Definitely, certainly, 100% different. 

“So you weren’t purposefully staying away from Dean? Because quite honestly this is just sounding like another excuse.”

“Because me being physically assaulted by his friends was just an excuse,” Castiel snapped, feeling cornered. 

“That’s not what I meant. You keep running away from him, and we both know why. It has nothing to do with Gordon, or some stupid sleepover.”

Castiel didn’t answer. Anna was always right, but that didn’t mean he was prepared to admit it. 

“Just promise me,” her voice softened, her thin fingers brushing the hair off his forehead. “Promise you won’t screw this up because you’re afraid.”

Castiel stayed quiet. Just another promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. 

He spent the next couple of days almost exclusively in the dark room, aside from shoots with Balthazar. He skipped his other classes, because really he didn’t care that much about them and he wanted to lose himself in his pictures again. 

He succeeded. 

All of a sudden, or at least it seemed very sudden to Castiel, it was Sunday evening and he had all of his rolls of film developed. He hadn’t made very many prints of Balthazar, but he _had_ made far too many prints of Dean and his bare, freckled skin. 

He hadn’t seen Anna since their conversation Wednesday afternoon, and he hadn’t seen his phone in four or five days. He was pretty sure it was dead. But Anna knew where to find him if she really needed him. Last time he’d seen his phone he’d had a message from Dean, at least one, but he never read it. 

Dean knew where to find him too. Probably. 

Half of his brain wanted to get back home, and half of his brain was nagging that he still had one set of negatives to play with. Castiel tried to reason with himself, but his stupid mind wouldn’t listen. 

_They’re probably all blurry anyway. And dark. And useless. Don’t bother._

But then, what if they _weren’t?_ What if they were perfect and beautiful and _shit_ Castiel really could not resist a good candid shot. It was one of the reasons he hated portraiture so much. It always felt fake, stilted. Nothing real or natural about them. But people were _fascinating_. Their expressions, the laughter in their eyes, or the sadness, the slight curve of their lips, the twitching of their eyebrows. Castiel found stories in the lines on their faces, found life in the depths of their eyes, the tension in their muscles. There was so much to capture. He could watch them for hours and never get tired of it. 

One or two prints wouldn’t hurt. 

Castiel started at the beginning of the roll, knowing that the picture he really cared about was at the end. He worked his way through carefully, testing out the exposures and finding which ones were clear enough to print. A lot of them were too blurry, as he’d expected. The first couple were beautiful, even he thought so. His own knees were caught in the edge of the frame, one on either side of Dean’s lower back. Dean’s face was lit up with light from the TV, his freckles dark against his skin. His green eyes were practically glowing, and Castiel couldn’t help but blush at the smile he found in the crinkle of Dean’s eye. 

The roll of film declined rapidly in quality after that, blurred shots of God knows what suffering from varying degrees of overexposure. He found one of himself that was interesting, but he didn’t spend long on it. Vanity, and all that. In the picture he had one hand reached out towards the camera, his glasses on the verge of sliding off his nose, his mouth open like he was talking. Telling Dean off, most likely. The shot was taken at an angle, something covering the bottom corner. Probably Dean’s finger. The bruise on his eye didn’t look nearly as bad in black and white, but it was still pretty bad. He ran a hand through his hair self consciously while the picture developed, wondering if his hair really did stand up like that. 

“It’s worse in person.”

Castiel practically jumped out of his skin at the rumble of the deep voice next to him. 

“Holy shit, Dean. A little warning next time.”

Dean just grinned, ruffling his hair and strolling around to the other side of the room to inspect the pictures he’d already developed. He didn’t say anything else, so Castiel focused on finishing up the picture. What he _really_ wanted to focus on was Dean’s uncharacteristic silence, and the weight of his presence in the room, and the fluttering in his stomach. 

Dean was still standing staring at the drying prints when Castiel came over to hang up the latest print, his gaze flicking over and lingering on Castiel’s face. 

“You really get lost in here, don’t you?”

Castiel stared at him. There was a quiet warmth to his voice, something that maybe sounded like affection. 

“I suppose so,” Castiel responded quietly. He tilted his head at Dean, pushing his glasses up his nose. He turned to look at his prints, just a fraction of what he’d made over the last couple of days. It was probably odd for Dean to see so many pictures of himself, but he didn’t say anything. 

They were quiet for a few moments, but Castiel didn’t move back over to the enlarger. He could just barely smell the leathery scent of Dean over the heavy chemical smells in the room, and it was unbelievably distracting. 

“I like it best when no one else is here,” Castiel murmured quietly, hearing Dean huff a laugh in response. 

“No offense, or anything.”

Castiel glanced over to see if Dean was actually offended, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“I wasn’t gonna come by, since you’re avoiding me and all.”

Castiel flinched. _Shit_. 

“I wasn’t—”

Dean raised an eyebrow, a challenging look on his face. 

So maybe Castiel had been avoiding him. A little bit. But _Dean_ wasn’t supposed to notice, let alone call him out on it. 

“I’ve been busy.”

“Sure, Cas.”

They were quiet for a few more minutes. Castiel heard Dean huff another small laugh, a warm smile spreading across his face. 

“I like this one,” he said, reaching out and pulling the picture of Castiel off the string it was hanging on. 

“Ha ha,” Castiel said sarcastically, fixing his glasses and shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“I’m serious,” Dean laughed, bumping Castiel with his shoulder. “It’s kinda hipster.”

Castiel practically snorted. 

“If you’d consider a poorly exposed, blurry photo that wasn’t even taken straight by someone who barely knows how to operate a film camera ‘hipster,’ then sure.”

“Artsy, then? Avant-garde? Experimental? New wave?”

“New wave, definitely,” Castiel felt himself smile, just barely. 

“You gonna use it?”

“A bad picture of myself?” Castiel raised his eyebrows. “I’d say no.”

“I’m gonna keep it then,” Dean grinned back at him, catching Castiel’s eye. 

“Um,” Castiel felt his ears heat up, fixing his glasses again. “Why?”

“I like it,” Dean shrugged simply, apparently not inclined to give any further explanation. 

_It’s a bad picture. Don’t read into it_. _Don’t. Don’t do it._

Castiel moved before his mind caught up with him. It was, apparently, too late to not read into things. He wrapped his arms tentatively around Dean’s waist, tucking himself into the warmth of his chest and leaning his cheek against the hard muscles.

“I’m sorry.”

It came out muffled, but Dean’s arms came up around Castiel’s shoulders and he laughed quietly. 

“What for?”

Castiel didn’t respond, and Dean didn’t press. 

***

Castiel had been fairly certain that Balthazar _wasn’t_ a diva, right up until they had to do his nude shots. 

“Cassie, are you _trying_ to make me look like a whale?"

Castiel rolled his eyes for what felt like the three hundredth time in the span of two hours, dropping the camera into his lap and glaring at the naked blond laying on the floor of his studio. 

“While I appreciate your input, I assure you that the angle isn’t nearly as bad as you seem to think it is.”

“This is my good side,” Balthazar smirked back at him, effectively ignoring his comment. 

He wanted to say no, but Castiel figured out about an hour ago that Balthazar would refuse to cooperate if he did. 

_Next time, getting somebody low maintenance. No more blondes._

And it was a good thing that Balthazar knew how to work his frame, or else Castiel would have fired him by now. His commentary was absolutely non-stop, complaining about angles and lighting and “not like that, Cassie,” and “try this,” and “you’re _going_ to get wrinkles if you keep glaring at me like that.” 

Castiel was starting to kind of hate him. He kind of liked him, too, but that was beside the point. He was absolutely obnoxious, and arrogant, and puffed up, and he liked to flirt with Castiel to make him mad. Castiel had tried telling him that his attempts were useless, but Balthazar seemed to get endless entertainment from being rejected. 

To each their own, apparently. 

“Cassie, you are going to have to get closer to me if you want to get that shot,” Balthazar teased, a seductive tone to his voice. Castiel glared at him, getting wiggling eyebrows in response. 

He was right though. 

Castiel shifted his position, straddling Balthazar’s outstretched legs and balancing his weight so as to not crush his knees. 

“Stay still. Look up.”

Balthazar obeyed silently, and Castiel leaned forward to take a couple of shots. He was balanced precariously on one elbow, stretching to get the proper angle looking up Balthazar’s bare chest. 

“Am I interrupting?”

Castiel jumped at the deep voice, his balance failing and his elbow slipping out from underneath him. He fell forward, his chest pressed up against Balthazar’s lower body and his face pressed uncomfortably into his stomach. He tried to get into a standing position, but Balthazar was just dying of laughter underneath him. 

“I would say yes,” Balthazar managed between laughed, tapping Castiel with his foot as he stood and tipping his balance one again. Castiel stumbled, glaring down at him with as much venom as he could muster. 

“Stop it,” he growled, stepping away from Balthazar’s reach. “Hello, Dean.”

“You guys look busy,” he said, ignoring Castiel’s greeting. The suggestive smirk on his face looked way too forced, and his tone came out much closer to annoyed than teasing. 

“We are,” Balthazar winked at him. 

Castiel rolled his eyes and strolled out of the room, gesturing for Dean to follow him. He walked into the living room and pointed at the couch, raising his eyebrows and giving Dean his best _sit your ass down_ look. 

Dean snorted, but sat down anyway. 

“What did I say about glaring at my models?”

Dean’s eyes flicked up to catch his own, his signature flirty grin spreading across his face. Not the reaction that Castiel had expected, but not entirely unwelcome. 

Things between them had slipped back to normal since Sunday. Well, sort of normal. Because they didn’t really have an _excuse_ to hang out anymore, and Castiel was busy, but they still sort of made time. Only twice in the past five days or so, but that was still more than Castiel saw _anyone_ , besides Anna. 

“Sorry,” he said, licking his lips slowly and dropping his voice an octave. He reached a hand out and grabbed Castiel’s wrist, gently tugging him forward. 

“Dean,” Castiel said firmly, trying to put some authority in his voice. It didn’t really work. He could practically _hear_ the sex in Dean’s voice, already felt his body responding. 

“Cas,” Dean grinned up at him, his tone mocking. 

“I am in the middle of a shoot.”

Castiel was standing between his knees, Dean’s hands tracing down his thighs. 

“I know.”

“I’m _busy.”_

Castiel let himself be pulled into Dean’s lap, straddling his thighs with Dean’s hands slipping underneath his t-shirt. 

“I _know,”_ Dean teased again, his smile shrinking, but no less cocky. 

“So you can’t _manhandle_ me right now,” Castiel tried to say, but his breath hitched in the middle when Dean pulled his hips forward. Their faces were only centimeters away, and there was a heat in Dean’s eyes that made Castiel melt. 

“I’m not _manhandling_ you,” Dean said softly, tilting his chin up like he’s going to kiss him. Castiel waited, but their lips didn’t touch. There was barely a breath of space between them, the air electric. Castiel’s body was arched up against him, Dean’s hands on the small of his back, and he felt so powerless and powerful all at the same time. 

Castiel could barely breathe. They didn’t do this. Things never progressed this far. Because their lips hadn’t touched, and yet sitting on Dean’s lap, their eyes locked, sharing each other’s breath, he felt far more exposed. 

“I have to work.”

“Better get off me then.”

They were both silent for another couple of seconds. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure where the courage came from, but he slowly closed the minuscule space between them. Their mouths slanted together, Castiel’s hand sliding into Dean’s hair and tugging his head back until it rested against the couch. Dean’s hands stayed on Castiel’s back, their grip tightening and pulling him closer against Dean’s chest. 

Castiel’s chest felt like it was going to explode. 

Dean’s quiet groan into his mouth didn’t help. 

He had no idea how long it was before he managed to drag himself away. He was panting, and Castiel couldn't help but bend down for two, or three, or seven more kisses.

“I have to—”

“—work.”

They stared at each other. Dean’s pupils are blown wide, his cheeks pink underneath his freckles. 

“Stay,” Castiel mumbled, feeling his voice shake. “Let me finish this and then—”

Dean just stared at him, lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t decide what to say. 

“Just stay.”

“Okay,” Dean said softly, all of his earlier cockiness gone. “Okay. Yeah.”

Somehow Castiel managed to climb off the couch and make it back into his studio without falling over. Balthazar was still sprawled out on the floor, humming quietly. Castiel joined him on the floor, picking up his camera and testing the light meter. 

“Highly unprofessional, if you ask me.”

Castiel glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You and your boyfriend,” Balthazar grinned, closing his eyes and shifting his position slightly. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Castiel responded automatically, feeling the sting a little more than before. 

“Of course, Cassie. Shall we?”

Castiel just nodded, pulling the camera up to his eye and pressing his nose against the back. 

Dean wasn’t his boyfriend, but he was staying. And that was progress. For both of them. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What a coincidence,” Castiel nodded seriously, drawing another laugh out of Dean. 
> 
> “Or divine intervention,” he winked, grinning in that flirty way of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that the rating of this guy has changed, so expect a little hot 'n heavyness. Finally. I'll apologize in advance for where this chapter ends but it was getting long because _damn_ these boys will _not_ stop talking. Sheesh. I'll try not to make you guys wait too long for another one. 
> 
> For all y'all commenters, you are the best. Your feedback means the world to me. All y'all non-commenters, I still love you oodles for reading. Seriously.
> 
> Anyway I'm still in tears over that mid-season finale and I don't feel like proof-reading for typos so please accept this as is.

“Your eye looks better,” Dean commented, seconds after Balthazar walked out Castiel’s front door. 

Castiel just hummed in response and shuffled over to the couch, tucking his feet underneath him and fixing his glasses. 

“And I talked to Gordon.”

“Oh?” Castiel said innocently. That certainly explained Dean’s mood when he had arrived. He knew Dean didn’t like Balthazar, but the tension he’d brought into Castiel’s apartment was oddly intense. 

“And I _didn’t_ beat the shit out of him, so I’d call that a success.”

Castiel laughed despite himself. “What did you say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Things were said. Accusations were made. Douches were put in their place. He won’t bother you again.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows skeptically, but didn’t push it. He was starting to be able to tell when Dean was done talking about something, and he was clearly done talking about Gordon. 

“How’s the side?”

“Better.”

He lifted up the hem of his shirt a little bit, just enough to show Dean the fading yellow bruise on his side. Dean reached out, tentatively sliding his thumb over the bare skin, making goosebumps rise on his arms. Dean’s eyes flicked up, a grin spreading across his face and _almost_ covering up the guilt in his eyes. 

“You hungry?”

_Starving_ , Castiel whined inwardly, trying to keep his face stoic. Whatever spell had taken over earlier was gone now, and they were apparently back in the safe-zone of kisses and innocent touches. Which was fine. Maybe a little disappointing, given the heat still pooled in Castiel’s stomach, but fine. 

“Yes. Do you make stir fry?”

Dean grinned, pulling Castiel’s hand up and pressing a kiss to his palm. 

“Sure do. Sit tight.”

Castiel went into his studio after Dean left to get groceries, giving him some money to spend after much convincing. He spread all of his developed prints out, picking out the ones that didn’t fit and arranging them in different ways. There were more of Dean than anyone else, but it would balance out with his next couple of models. He’d have to remake a lot of the prints, since there was entirely too much diversity among them now. Different contrasts, paper types, sizes. Meg and Balthazar fed off each other well, flashes of dark hair and blonde hair pulling his eye to different places, and Dean was close enough to the middle in terms of skin tone and hair color that he didn’t stick out too badly. The pictures of his oiled, greasy hands gave the whole thing a grittier feel than Castiel had expected it to have, but it wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest. 

He sat on the floor and picked at the arrangement for who knows how long, leaving spots open and planning out shots for his upcoming subjects. A redhead would probably do him well, but there was no way Anna would do it. Maybe another blonde, too, and someone else with darker skin. 

Castiel didn’t turn around when he heard his front door open and close, feeling his lips quirk up just slightly when Dean sat down behind him and rested his chin on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Damn, dude.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Castiel hummed, grabbing Dean’s hand and threading their fingers together, holding it between both of his own. “That is exactly the reaction I was going for.”

Dean huffed, pressing his lips against the skin of Castiel’s neck once, then twice, then a third and a fourth time, and far too quickly Castiel was baring his throat and leaning into Dean’s chest and humming happily. Dean chuckled quietly, sliding his hand out of Castiel’s grasp and nipping at the skin of Castiel’s neck softly before standing up. 

“I’m gonna go cook. Let you know when it’s ready.”

“Okay,” Castiel said breathlessly, not sure if Dean could even hear him. Castiel tried to focus on the pictures again, but it was useless. All he was really doing was staring at the shots of Dean, of his bare, toned shoulders, of his dirty hands, of his eyes that still looked kind of green even in the black and white prints. 

He took a few minutes to gather up the pictures and slip them back into his folders, sneaking into the kitchen and leaning up against the counter opposite the stove. Dean grinned at him, whistling while he worked. 

“Come to see the magic happen?” Dean winked at him, and Castiel rolled his eyes. 

Dean caught the motion, smiling bigger and stepping towards Castiel to plant a warm kiss to his lips. Dean’s fingers slid into the hairs at the base of Castiel’s neck for a brief moment, then he was pulling away and turning back towards the stove. 

The pan crackled and popped, and the smell in the kitchen was absolutely heavenly. They didn’t talk while Dean cooked, but they shared looks now and again that made Castiel’s stomach flutter. 

“You wanna quit staring at me and grab some bowls?”

“You’re getting a bit too mouthy,” Castiel grumbled, standing up on his toes to grab two bowls out of the cupboard. 

“Careful,” Dean chuckled. He grabbed the bowls out of Castiel’s hands, piling them high with steaming stir fry. “Sounding a little wistful there.”

Castiel just glared at him, huffing and wandering out into the living room to grab a spot on the couch. Dean joined him a second later, handing him a bowl and a fork. It took some effort not to moan around his fork on the first bite, but Dean was watching and he could already feel his cheeks warming up. 

“So, um, your brother,” Castiel cleared his throat, trying to fill the silence. Dean smiled sort of, _bashfully_ , which was an odd expression to see on his face. 

“Yeah? What about him?”

“Tell me about him.”

Dean scoffed, pulling a face and half-swallowing a bite of stir fry before answering. “Why?”

“You know, the food _does_ look delicious when it’s chewed up inside your mouth, but you could try swallowing before speaking.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Dean grinned at him, earning himself a glare from Castiel. 

“Seriously, your brother. What's he like?”

“Dunno,” Dean shrugged, staring down at his lap and fiddling with his food. “You met him. Smart as hell, way too friggin’ nice. Sam’s always looking for the good in people, ya know? Except Dad. They still butt heads like crazy. And Jess, his girlfriend? Way out of his league. He’s gonna do big things, though. Even if his hair is way too long.” Dean sighed heavily, ran his hand through his hair. “I dunno, man. What is there to tell?”

Castiel bit down the smile that was threatening to spread across his face, and the crack that split down the center of his chest. Dean’s description of his little brother was everything that Castiel expected it to be, and far more. It was so _Dean_ , at once superficial and sarcastic and sincerely heartfelt all at the same time. Dean probably had no idea how revealing his little description was, but Castiel was excited about the small glimpse under Dean’s exterior. 

“You guys are close?” Castiel prompted, looking for more. 

“Yeah. Like I said, Dad wasn’t always around a lot. Sammy was little. That’s my big brother job, right?” Dean huffed a laugh, but it didn’t sound quite right and Castiel could tell that Dean’s mind was far away someplace. “Watch out for Sammy,” he mumbled quietly, and Castiel barely caught the words. 

“I’m, um, sorry for asking,” Castiel tried, wanting to get that sad look off of Dean’s face. He reached up and cupped Dean’s cheek with his palm, running his thumb over his cheekbone. 

“Nah,” Dean waved a hand, leaning into Castiel’s touch. “Not sure why I’m telling you all this shit, but it’s fine.”

Castiel’s lips twitched and he stared down at his bowl, taking another couple of bites in comfortable silence. 

“What about your family?” Dean asked after a minute, and Castiel froze. “I don’t know anything about them.”

Logically, it made sense that Dean would ask eventually. Still, that didn’t stop Castiel from hoping that eventually would be much, much later. 

“I’m not very close with them.”

Dean stared at him, obviously waiting for more. 

“I have older brothers, Michael, Luke, and Gabe. My father was never really in the picture.”

“So you _are_ the only one with a weird-ass name.”

Castiel glared at him, pressing his lips into a thin line and fixing his glasses on his nose. 

_“No_ , I’m not, thank you very much. Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel.”

Dean practically spat out his food, snorting and coughing until he was red in the face. Castiel’s lips twitched up, a small laugh bubbling up his throat. 

“Wait wait. Hold up. You have a brother named _Lucifer?”_

“Hard to believe I’m the problem child, hmm?” Castiel smiled, far too amused by the shocked look on Dean’s face. A grin spread across Dean’s face in response to Castiel’s, and it made Castiel’s heart jump into his throat so fast he had to stop himself from flinching. 

“Dude. I was right. You are totally named after an angel, aren’t you?”

Castiel just hummed, taking another few bites of food. “Yes, your drunken nickname is an accurate one, I suppose.”

“Which one? Is Castiel like, some badass archangel too?”

“Not quite, though there is an angel _Cassiel_ who is sometimes included in the list, depending on who you ask.”

“What’s Castiel then?”

“The angel of Thursday,” he said, his tone dry. It _was_ better than Lucifer, but still pretty wimpy. 

“Huh.” Dean seemed to process this for a second, another grin spreading across his face. “Ya know, I was almost born on a Thursday.”

“Almost?” Castiel raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. 

“January 24th, 11:56PM. _Almost.”_

“What a coincidence,” Castiel nodded seriously, drawing another laugh out of Dean. 

“Or divine intervention,” he winked, grinning in that flirty way of his. 

There was a beat of silence when they both turned to their food, Castiel again resisting the urge to groan because _damn_ Dean could cook. 

“So why aren’t you guys close?” Dean prodded, staring up at Castiel through his eyelashes. 

_So distracting._

“I, um. Gabe and I are, I suppose. We don’t see each other much, but we talk. He’s getting married, soon.”

“You gonna go?” Dean smiled, shifting his position on the couch so that they were sitting closer together. 

“Of course. Though I can’t say that I’m too terribly excited to see my entire extended family, especially after so much time. I’m sure Mother will be just lovely.”

Dean laughed, but Castiel could see the sympathy in his eyes still. “When’s the last time you saw them?”

Castiel hummed, thinking back to the last time he’d seen any of them. 

“Three years ago, ish. A little while after I started school here.”

“Yikes. Need a date?”

Castiel’s eyes snapped up to Dean’s, scanning his face for sincerity. 

“Are you offering?” 

Dean shrugged. “If you want. I swear I know which one the shrimp fork is.”

Castiel laughed, biting his bottom lip. 

“You’re sure it’s not too…weird?”

“Dude,” Dean sighed, a warning tone to his voice. “Don’t make it like, a thing. If you gotta deal with your shitty family, the least I can do is offer a little back-up.”

Castiel felt like all of the words he knew had fled his brain, and his mouth may or may not have been hanging open. It took him a few seconds to gather himself, the weight of Dean’s gaze just a little bit too distracting.

“Okay. It’s next month.”

“Got it,” Dean grinned, leaning forward and kissing him warmly. “What about the others?”

“Michael and Luke never paid much attention to me, the age gap is pretty significant. And they were too wrapped up in hating each other to care much about me. I was a quiet kid, stuck mostly to my studies.”

“That’s shocking,” Dean laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re _such_ a little nerd.”

“Shut up,” Castiel glared, smacking him lightly with the back of his hand. “My mother and I had a tense relationship, to say the least. She always thought I should do something _more important_ , with my life, other than photography. Needless to say she was far from pleased when I announced my major. According to her, something like _law,_ like Luke, or _medicine,_  like Michael,would be far more suitable for a Novak.”

The words had tumbled out faster than Castiel could censor them, and he could feel them hanging around in the air now that they were out. Dean pulled his lips up into a small smile that was sort of forced. 

“Man, I know what that’s like. Parent’s suck sometimes, huh?”

“That they do,” Castiel sighed, thankful for the slight dismissal of the topic. “You finished?”

He gestured towards Dean’s empty bowl, standing up from the couch. They made their way into the kitchen together, working on the dishes quietly until the kitchen was restored to its former cleanliness. When they were finished Dean leaned up against the counter and pulled Castiel in by his hips, his thumbs slipping under the hem of his shirt and rubbing circles on his hipbones. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“What do you wanna do?”

_Read your body like a book. And you?_

“I don’t have a preference.”

Dean hummed like he was thinking, his gaze traveling down Castiel’s chest. 

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“Did you mean, do I want to watch _Star Wars?”_

Dean just grinned, not even bothering to look guilty. 

“Fine,” Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes. “Go set up. I’m going to change.”

He pushed away from Dean and wandered back to his room, ignoring whatever Dean said as he walked away. He took a few minutes to pull on loose sweats, which may or may not have hung dangerously low on his hips and which he may or may not have been aware of, and a soft t-shirt. Castiel also took a moment to send a quick text to Anna, because his mind was buzzing and some part of him needed her to validate his freak out. 

**Castiel:** _I have a date to Gabe’s wedding._

She texted back immediately, which he was infinitely thankful for. 

**Anna:** _ok…………is it dean?_

**Castiel:** _…yes._

**Anna:** _wait. WHAT. really? did you ask?_

**Castiel:** _he offered._

**Anna:** _I’m freaking out. CALL ME._

**Castiel:** _he’s at my house, I can’t_

**Anna:** _you better call me the second that he leaves._

**Castiel:** _ok. call you tomorrow._

Castiel wandered back out to the living room, smiling before he even read Anna’s last message. 

**Anna:** _WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!??!?!_

He didn’t respond to that one, pausing next to the couch and slipping his phone into his pocket before looking up at Dean who was stationed on the couch with the remote in his hand. There was an odd look on his face, and Castiel watched as his eyes scanned Castiel’s body. 

“Dean?” he tilted his head, fixing his glasses and furrowing his eyebrows. Dean’s eyes snapped up, his lips barely parted. 

“Not fair, dude.”

“What?” Castiel replied, sincerely confused, sinking down onto the couch and sticking his toes underneath Dean’s leg. 

“Nothing,” Dean grumbled, wrapping his arm around Castiel’s neck and dragging him forward. 

Their lips met and Castiel made a surprised noise, leaning in and bracing his hands on Dean’s chest. There was a moment when Castiel thought they might break away, that Dean might pull back, and Castiel didn’t really feel inclined to let that happen. He pressed forward, sliding fully onto Dean’s lap and deepening the kiss further. Dean inhaled sharply, his hands sliding down Castiel’s spine and his arms wrapping around his waist. Castiel had to resist the urge to smile, pressing his hips down and reveling in the groan that dragged out of Dean’s mouth. 

“Jesus _shit_ , Cas,” Dean mumbled, gripping him tighter and tilting his head back as Castiel pressed their lips together again. 

“Your language is much worse when you’re turned on,” Castiel noted, trying to look serious and probably failing epically in the face of Dean’s lust-blown pupils. 

“Shut the fuck up and get back down here,” he growled, a grin on his face. He pulled Castiel in by the nape of his neck, parting his lips with his tongue.

Castiel should have known that he would be putty in Dean’s hands. Even with his glasses smushed against his face, it took practically nothing for Dean to get him panting, drawing the occasional moan out of his throat. And then there were his lips on his throat, his collarbone, underneath his ear, and Castiel knew he would probably have some battle scars. 

Somehow, he didn’t seem to mind. 

When Castiel’s mouth found its way to Dean’s jawline, Dean seemed to give up all pretenses of self-control. Castiel was enjoying the feel of stubble against his lips when Dean tugged him back, fingers buried in the shorter hairs at the base of his neck. 

“Wanna forget about the movie?” he managed, his voice lower and more rumbling than usual. Castiel _loved_ it. 

“Fuck yes.”

Dean grinned, parting his lips again with his tongue and angling Castiel’s head to deepen the kiss. Castiel melted into Dean’s body, wrapping his legs around his waist as Dean shifted off the couch. He felt hands drop to his ass, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and grinning against his mouth. Seconds later he was dropping onto his back on his bed, Dean standing over him and looking at him hungrily. He had a second to wish that his arousal wasn’t _quite_ so obvious before deciding that Dean _definitely_ didn’t seem to mind. 

“You’re staring again.”

Dean grinned, crawling onto the bed and sliding his hands underneath Castiel’s shirt before laying out on top of him. 

“It’s actually _stupid_ how hot you are.”

“That so?” Castiel’s lips twitched, his fingers combing through Dean’s hair as the other boy laved kisses over his pulse. 

“Friggin’ _sweats_ should not be this appealing,” he mumbled against Castiel’s skin, scraping his teeth against his collarbone. 

_Ah. That explains the look. Apparently old, baggy sweats come in handy._

“So _that’s_ what started all this.”

“Maybe,” Dean growled, leaning back and pulling Castiel’s shirt off over his head. 

If Castiel had known that Dean was going to torture him, he might have stopped him right away. As it were, he was only able to hold on to conscious thought for about three seconds before all brain function abandoned him. Dean’s journey down his body was a long and torturous one, kisses laid out across every inch of his body. He was vaguely aware of quiet moans and whines escaping his mouth, but he was too distracted to care. Castiel seemed to be learning about himself at the same time as Dean, discovering that yes, his hipbones _were_ incredibly sensitive, oddly enough, and _yes_ , he was _very_ into teeth and _yes,_ Dean had the most incredible mouth ever and _yes, yes, yes…_

_“Dean,”_ he whined, hearing him chuckle against his skin. 

“Patience, young Skywalker.”

His voice was low, rough, and _far_ too appealing. 

“Don’t fucking quote _Star Wars_ at me,” Castiel growled, squirming when Dean sucked a mark into his hipbone, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his sweats. 

“You’re right,” he grinned up at Castiel, sliding the sweats off of his body. “You’re Chewbacca, not Luke.”

_No pants. Shit shit shit._

Castiel tried valiantly not to squirm out from under Dean’s hands as he kissed up Castiel’s bare legs, his nose running along the bulge of Castiel’s cloth-covered erection. He mouthed softly at it, his hands sliding to the outside of Castiel’s thighs and his body fitting between his spread legs. Dean must have been able to sense Castiel’s nervousness because he paused, making no moves to remove his boxers. 

“You okay?” he asked quietly, pulling back to make eye contact. 

“Fine. Yeah. Fine.”

Dean’s eyebrow crept up, and it was obvious he wasn’t buying any of Castiel’s bullshit. 

“Just…never done this before,” Castiel admitted grudgingly, knowing that Dean wasn’t going to let it go.  _Boyfriends_ weren't his thing. Or, well,  _relationships_ weren't his thing. Being the quiet, weird, skinny, nerdy kid in high school didn't exactly lend itself to many opportunities, but then again it wasn't as if he had been trying that hard. Castiel wasn't lacking in the desire or the confidence, he just generally didn't find anyone to be worth the effort. But Dean, he was worth the effort. He was so worth the effort. So, yeah, he was a little... _inexperienced._  And that was about to change, if he had any say in the matter. 

“Like…with a guy?” Dean asked, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“Like…ever.”

There was a beat of silence while Dean processed this information, pulling further away to sit up. 

“I didn’t…I’m sorry, Cas. I should’ve asked. We don’t have to—”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted, propping himself up on his elbows. “I am capable of saying no if I wanted to. I don’t want to. So please, _please_ continue because you are quite literally killing me right now.”

Surprise blanketed Dean’s face for a moment before a flirty grin took it’s place. 

"You're sure?"

"Yes," Castiel whined, trying his best to wrap his legs around Dean's hips. Dean just laughed, settling himself back in between Castiel's legs and brushing his lips against his inner thigh as he spoke. 

“Your wish is my command.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, January 24th, 1979 was actually a Wednesday. Obviously Dean in this story would have a different birthday, but whatever. 
> 
> For those of you who have read my other longfic, Never Have I Ever, I'm S ORRY I just really love cute boys picking each other up while making out okay? Just let me use that in every fic I write so that I can be happy. Also, I was thinking to myself "self, this is not a slow-burn. you are crap at slow burns." and then I fired back "but self! its been 13 chapters and there has been no smut! what the fuck are you writing about!" and then I high-fived myself. Its 2am I'm tired. I'm sorry.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Morning,” Castiel yawned, hearing the sleep-scratchiness in his own voice. He felt Dean’s smile against the nape of his neck, and what maybe felt like eyelashes as Dean blinked awake. 
> 
> “God you’re irresistible in the morning,” Dean rumbled, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's finals right now, and instead of studying I decided to write some porn. Whoops. 
> 
> You guys were just so damn nice to me about the last chapter, even though I was literally so mean and left you hanging there, so I figure this is my gift to you.

Castiel had been fairly sure that he knew what this would feel like. Sort of. He thought he knew what to expect. 

He was so, _so_ wrong. 

Dean’s mouth was wet and hot, his tongue a gift straight from God himself. He didn’t waste any time, either, hollowing his cheeks and teasing the head with his tongue. Castiel groaned long and loud, a noise he hadn’t even known he was _capable_ of making and that maybe sounded a little reminiscent of Dean’s name. He felt more than he heard Dean laugh, the vibration sending another shock of pleasure right to the tips of his fingers and toes. 

_“Dean,”_ he moaned, not really sure what he was trying to say and not really caring at all.

Because this was _Dean_ and this was _happening_ and Dean _wanted_ this and _holy shit how did they end up here?_

Dean lowered his mouth slowly, drawing more noises out of Castiel before sliding back up. His tongue continued to work the bundle of nerves underneath the head, his hand moving in time with his mouth. Castiel’s hands were fisted in the sheets, and he was doing his best to keep his hips planted on the bed. The last thing he needed was Dean choking. 

His breathing was rapidly picking up, his fingers starting to tingle from loss of blood, when Dean pulled off with a wet _pop_. Castiel waited, all too aware of Dean’s hot breath on his still-wet cock. Then he felt a sharp bite on the inside of his thigh, making him snap his head up to stare grumpily down at Dean. 

_“Ow,”_ he growled, only getting a stupid grin in response. Dean kissed the spot, running his tongue over it softly. “What was that for?”

“You’re holding back,” Dean rumbled, his voice rough like _pure sex_. He reached up and grabbed one of Castiel’s hands, untangling it from the sheets and placing it on the back of his head. Castiel threaded his fingers through the short strands automatically, tugging lightly. Dean grinned again, far more hungry this time. “Do your worst.”

Dean licked a wet stripe up Castiel’s cock before taking it into his mouth again, making Castiel whimper with pleasure. Castiel had no clue what he was doing, what he was supposed to do, but his body seemed to know what it wanted. His fingers gripped Dean’s hair tighter, guiding the pace of his bobbing head while his hips raised up to meet his mouth. His moans were loud and frequent and often included Dean’s name, but he couldn’t care. All that mattered was the wet heat of Dean’s mouth and the electricity shooting through his body. 

_“Dean,”_ he tried, his voice breathy and desperate. He recognized the sensation in his belly, could feel the strength of it building with every swipe of Dean’s tongue. He tried to tug back on Dean’s hair, warn him somehow to pull off. “Dean, I’m—”

Dean actually _growled_ at him, low in his throat, sinking down and taking all of Castiel’s length into his mouth until his nose was buried in the curls at the base. His fingers dug into the skin of Castiel’s thighs, and Castiel was so far gone it wasn’t even funny. 

_“Fuck fuck, DEAN!”_ he cried out, each exhale turning into a moan as his fingers held Dean close, his cock buried in his mouth. He felt Dean groan too, his eyes fluttering shut as Castiel’s release shot down his throat. 

It took a few minutes for Castiel to get a handle on himself, Dean finally pulling off but not looking too eager to move. He mouthed at the inside of Castiel’s thighs, working on a dark hickey and breathing heavy, his eyes still closed. Castiel let him, content to lay there, stroking his fingers through Dean’s hair, all blissed out, with Dean between his legs, for as long as the other boy felt inclined to do so. 

“Angel,” Dean mumbled quietly, the smile in his voice apparent. “You are _loud_.”

Castiel blushed. Maybe that was true. Not that he’d _known_ that about himself, of course, but still. 

“Shut up.”

He was very suddenly aware of his extreme nudity, squirming a little bit until Dean pulled his boxer-briefs back up. He placed two soft kisses on his hipbones and Castiel sighed happily, more comfortable now that he was slightly covered up. 

“Don’t worry,” Dean grinned, sliding up the bed and shifting Castiel’s position until they were laying on their sides facing each other. “I loved it.”

Castiel kissed him, tasting himself on Dean’s lips and not minding in the slightest. He slid his hands up Dean’s chest, unhappily noticing how utterly _dressed_ Dean was. 

“You have so many clothes on still.”

“Sorry,” Dean laughed, “I was a little focused on getting yours off.”

Castiel just huffed, sitting up and pulling Dean’s clothes off layer by layer. It wasn’t _sexy_ in the slightest, or reverent in the way that Dean had managed while undressing him, but whatever. Dean lifted his arms and his hips to help out, and neither of them really spoke. When he was wearing nothing but dark boxer-briefs Castiel pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips and tracing the planes of Dean’s chest with his fingertips. 

“Where’s my camera when I need it,” he mumbled, not entirely sure that he had even said it out loud until Dean’s eyebrows raised slowly, his hands settling on Castiel’s hips. 

“In a galaxy far, far away where you can’t take pictures of me when I’m mostly naked with my hair looking like shit.”

“That’s now two _Star Wars_ quotes you’ve used. Pushing your luck, Winchester.”

Dean laughed, grabbing the hand that was walking its way up his sternum and kissing its palm. 

“And I like your hair like this,” Castiel’s lips twitched up at the corners, and he pulled his hand away to pull through Dean’s short hair. It _did_ look pretty bad, sticking up all over like someone had been pulling on it; which, in fairness, was exactly what had happened. 

“You would, it probably looks just like yours.”

Castiel just glared at him, leaning down and kissing his way up Dean’s neck. That shut him up pretty quickly, a note that Castiel filed away for later use. He shifted his hips, feeling how hard Dean was underneath him and loving the hiss it drew from Dean’s mouth. Castiel smiled against Dean’s skin, confident that the other boy couldn’t see him. 

“Quit smiling,” Dean mumbled, his voice sounding breathy. So maybe Dean could still feel it, even if he couldn't _see_ it. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Castiel hummed, kissing his way across Dean’s collarbones and sliding his hands down his sides. 

“Dick,” Dean laughed quietly, his fingers threading through Castiel’s hair and tugging softly. “Cas, dude, you really don’t have to. It’s fine if you—”

Castiel sat up abruptly, planting his hands on Dean’s hips and staring down at him. Dean looked surprised and, oddly enough, sort of unsure of himself. His pupils were still wide and his lips were parted, pink and slightly damp. Castiel licked his own lips subconsciously, watching Dean’s eyes as they followed the movement. 

“Dean. I’m not some virginal flower that needs protecting. I know what I want. And right now I want you in my mouth so, unless you don’t want that, then I think I’ll continue.”

If Dean’s jaw could have dropped while he was laying down, Castiel was pretty sure it would have just done so. He himself had absolutely no idea what had just come out of his mouth, but he _did_ know that he wanted to return the favor and he _was_ tired of Dean trying to be all…chivalric, or something. 

_It’s kind of endearing. Unnecessary, but endearing. Since when is Dean endearing? Never? Still. Kind of endearing._

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Dean tried to joke, but there was a raspiness to his voice that gave him away. Castiel removed his glasses and handed them to Dean, the world melting out of focus around him.

“Reasonably certain.”

Castiel leaned back down, kissing his way down Dean’s torso and sliding his fingers underneath the hem of his underwear and pulling it down rather clumsily. Dean didn’t seem to care though, so Castiel did his best to act like he had any clue what he was doing. 

The taste was different than what he was expecting. Kind of bitter, but kind of just _Dean_ too. He tested out different movements of his tongue, hollowing his cheeks like Dean had done and finding out how much he could take before his throat constricted. He took a brief second to contemplate how exactly Dean had managed to take so much without gagging, but that was maybe a thought for another time. 

Castiel knew his technique was far from perfect, but Dean seemed to be enjoying it. The deep groans that he was making were absolutely intoxicating, and Castiel wanted to keep making him make those sounds all night long. He tried swirling his tongue around the head, teasing the bundle of nerves there, working the base with his hand in time with the movements of his mouth. He tried to remember what Dean had done, but that was kind of a big haze anyway. 

Dean mumbled a couple of comments here and there, one particularly embarrassing one about teeth that Castiel was sure to take note of. Other than that Dean was surprisingly quiet, all heavy breathing and deep, rumbling groans and mumbled praises ranging from a simple _“yes”_ to _“just like that, fuck so good so fuck god yes Cas”_ as he came. 

Castiel enjoyed that one the most. 

After he swallowed Castiel took a page out of Dean’s book and stayed where he was, resting his cheek on Dean’s thigh and closing his eyes as Dean ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Tired,” Dean mumbled after a few minutes, his voice raspy and low. Castiel mumbled something back, crawling sleepily up the bed and slipping under the covers. “Thanks for waiting,” Dean snorted, pulling his own underwear back on and standing up to flick off the lights before sliding under the comforter to join him. 

Castiel reached a hand across the bed, blinking needlessly in an effort to find Dean’s frame in the dark. His palm came into contact with Dean’s stubbled cheek, his thumb finding his damp lips. Dean’s mouth opened and his teeth nipped at Castiel’s thumb before his arms reached out and wrapped around his waist. 

Then they were kissing, sleepy and lazy and Castiel was so content he wanted to cry. Dean tasted like home and his body was warm and Castiel felt loose and relaxed and he could feel each kiss lasting longer and longer as they both drifted off. Their entire bodies were pressed together, the only sounds in the room were their shared breaths and the wet sounds of their mouths meeting. Castiel whimpered, hoping that Dean hadn’t heard him. 

He was so fucking far in over his head. 

And they fell asleep like that, just holding each other, slow, warm kisses lulling them both to sleep. 

_“Goodnight, angel,”_ Dean murmured, barely a whisper. Castiel let out a heavy breath, kissing him one last time before falling asleep with their lips still pressed together. 

***

Castiel’s mouth really didn’t taste good when he woke up. Probably a combination of not brushing his teeth and, other…things…

He automatically blushed thinking about the night before, but a good kind of blush that was more wistful and less embarrassed. 

Castiel opened his eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times before deciding that the level of blurriness wasn’t going to get any better. He felt the arm around his waist tighten, noticing the body behind him and how Dean was practically draped over him. He squirmed a little bit, fairly sure that Dean was awake too. 

“Morning,” Castiel yawned, hearing the sleep-scratchiness in his own voice. He felt Dean’s smile against the nape of his neck, and what maybe felt like eyelashes as Dean blinked awake. 

“God you’re irresistible in the morning,” Dean rumbled, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. 

_That was unexpected._

And despite the fact that they had quite literally spent the night together barely clothed after some very fun activities, Castiel wasn’t feeling nearly as brave in the light of day. His stomach still fluttered at Dean’s words and he had to remind himself that _oh, right, we do this now._

Not that it was a bad thing. At all. Just, new. 

“Don’t speak so soon. You haven’t seen my hair or smelled my breath. If it smells anything like what it _tastes_ like, then—”

His nervous rambling was cut off as Dean forcibly rolled him over and kissed him, all thoughts of morning breath thrown out the window. Castiel thought about protesting for exactly two seconds before he gave in, melting into Dean’s body and focusing solely on tracing his lips with his tongue. 

They got lost in each other far too easily again, returning to the real world only when there was a loud knock on Castiel’s door. Dean pulled back and stared at him, a confused look on his face. 

“You expecting somebody?”

Castiel tried to remember if he had plans for that Saturday, but his brain was scrambled and damn Dean really did a number on him. He sat up and grabbed his glasses off the bedside table, placing them on his nose as the world came into focus. 

“Um. Maybe? What time is it?”

Dean sighed a rolled onto his back, reaching down to grab his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans. 

“12:13. Shit, dude,” he laughed, rubbing his eyes and stretching. Now _that_ was distracting. “We can really sleep when we want to, huh?” 

Dean was grinning up at him, his hands already reaching for Castiel’s waist. 

“Dean, I have to get the door,” he sighed, pulling out of his grasp and slipping out of the bed. He grabbed his sweats and t-shirt off the floor, pulling them on as he made his way towards the front door. 

There was a good chance that it was Anna, since he really had no clue who else it might be. It wasn’t like Castiel had a lot of visitors. He cracked open the door slowly, catching a glimpse of blonde hair right as he remembered what plans he had today. 

“Oh. Shit.”

“What a lovely greeting,” Balthazar smiled at him, the look in his eyes saying that he knew _exactly_ what Castiel had been up to. “I would apologize for being late, but it would seem that you haven’t been missing me much.”

“Uh,” Castiel tried to force words out of his mouth, just about anything that might explain why he had completely forgotten about their shoot that afternoon. “I totally forgot.”

_Well. Not exactly what was supposed to come out. But okay._

“Clearly,” Balthazar smiled again, stepping inside. “So, where’s the boyfriend?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Castiel mumbled, shutting the door behind him. “And he’s—”

As if on cue Dean came out from Castiel’s bedroom. Unfortunately, he apparently hadn’t seen fit to put on any _clothes_ , which might have been great in a different scenario and was definitely not great in this one. 

“Cas? Who is it—”

Dean froze mid stretch, a look on his face that might as well have said _I just got caught with both hands in the cookie jar._

Luckily Dean recovered much quicker than Castiel, his look of surprise morphing into a lazy grin. He strolled over and slung his arm across Castiel’s shoulders, his bare skin hot against Castiel’s own. 

“Good to see you again, Balthy.”

“Likewise, Deano.”

Castiel just rolled his eyes at them, somehow not surprised at the gigantic ego competition that was happening right in front of his eyes. 

“Dean, please go put some clothes on,” he sighed, stepping out of his grasp and pushing him back towards his room. “Balthazar and I have our final shoot right now.”

“Fine, fine,” Dean sighed, strolling back to Castiel’s room to get dressed. 

Castiel turned back to Balthazar, glaring at him when he was met with a completely unbearable shit-eating grin. 

“Have a fun night, Cassie?” Balthazar winked at him, sliding his hands into his back pockets and rocking back on his heels.

“None of your business. You can wait in the studio or you can have a seat out here. I just need a few minutes to change.”

Castiel retreated to his room and dressed quickly, purposefully not looking at Dean as he pulled his own clothes back on. He did _not_ need to get distracted by that freckled skin while in such close proximity to his bed. No way that would end well. He slipped into the bathroom after his clothes were changed, brushing his teeth and splashing some water on his face. That would have to do, at least until he could grab a shower later. 

When he got back out to the living room Dean was standing by the door, glaring at Balthazar who was lounging on the living room couch. Judging by the look Balthazar had probably said something, but Castiel _really_ wasn’t going to go there. Instead he just stepped right up into Dean’s space, grabbing one hand and using the other to force his gaze forward. 

“So I’ll see you later?” he said softly, aware that Balthazar could still hear them but making an effort all the same. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, thinking for a second before taking Castiel’s face in his hands and kissing him. It was long and almost _claiming_ , and _wow_ that was definitely new. 

“Looking a little green,” Castiel mumbled against his lips, his own mouth quirking up at the corners. 

“Shut up.”

Dean turned and opened the door, looking like he was going to leave before he stopped and turned back around. 

“Hey Cas would you—would you want to come over tonight? Have dinner with Sammy and I?”

Dean’s eyes flicked over to Balthazar as he made some kind of comment, but Castiel ignored him. Dean’s face looked so hopeful and sort of unsure at the same time, and Castiel knew this must have been a big deal for him. 

“Sure, Dean. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome,” he grinned, leaning in for one more brief kiss before turning and disappearing down the stairs. 

Castiel shut the door, kind of dazed for a moment before remembering that Balthazar was probably still judging him from his couch. He turned around and yep, definitely still judging. 

“So are sleepovers a perk you offer to all of your models, or just him?”

“Let’s go,” Castiel glared at him, fixing his glasses and stomping into the studio. He grabbed his camera and loaded it with a roll of film, trying to shake off the smell of Dean that was clinging to his skin. 

“I’m just saying, this _reeks_ of blatant favoritism.”

“Balthazar,” Castiel rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Drop it.”

_No more annoying models. Models must undergo strict personality testing before acceptance._

“I mean I can understand why. He’s gorgeous. All those delectable little freckles? Mm mm—”

And that was crossing a line. He wasn’t sure why, but he was very sure that _he_ should be the only one who enjoyed Dean’s freckles, not Balthazar. They were his to count and kiss and worship and—

_Woah. Focus. Get a handle on yourself._

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Castiel managed, his voice dry and serious, maybe a little bit lower than usual. Balthazar grinned in response, wiggling his eyebrows and sitting down on the floor. 

“You’re too easy,” he sighed. “If _Dean_ was looking a little green then you, my little Cassie, must be the Jolly Green Giant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn't too porny. If it was, my b. These boys have waited a while, okay?
> 
> Also, I just reread this again and damn this got way flooffier than I intended. WHY DOES THAT KEEP HAPPENING.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cas, I, uh—”
> 
> _Shit shit shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way, way, WAY too long to write. Apologies, my friends. My only excuse is that I got distracted writing the wedding chapter(s) and, might I add, they are DAMN adorable. Also it's Christmas so, forgive me?

The shoot with Balthazar felt like it took a really, really, ridiculously long time. Least of all because he _refused_ to butt out of Castiel’s personal life, and most of all because he didn’t have nearly enough freckles for Castiel’s liking. 

He wasn’t _quite_ sure when that became a preference of his, but he did have a sneaking suspicion. 

“Well, you know what that means,” Balthazar sighed, shifting his position just slightly. They were finishing the upper back and shoulders shoot, and at the very least his flirting was toned down while he was clothed. 

“I really don’t, and I really don’t need your input,” Castiel mumbled, scooting a little closer and tilting the camera to get more of a downward shot. 

“I mean he clearly has abandonment issues.”

Castiel just rolled his eyes and ignored him, but the memory of Dean talking about his family rose to the surface of his thoughts anyway. 

“Something to do with Mommy, I assume?”

“Balthazar. Stop.” Castiel pinched his nose and quickly fixed his glasses before raising the camera back up to his eye. 

“So it _is_ Mommy then. Interesting. Poor thing probably has no _clue_ what the word ‘healthy relationship’ even means.”

“That’s two words. Now please stop talking.”

“And another thing—”

Castiel groaned, interrupting whatever Balthazar was about to say. He set his camera down into his lap and slid his hands behind his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

“Cassie, _don’t_ be such a drama queen. I’m only trying to psychoanalyze your boyfriend,” Balthazar grinned, turning to face him and giving up all pretense of still doing a photo shoot. 

“Which I would strictly prefer you _refrain_ from doing.”

“Interesting.”

Castiel closed his eyes for a second and sighed heavily. “What. What is so interesting,” he said in a flat tone, his patience rapidly running out. 

“I think that’s the first time you haven’t denied that he’s your boyfriend.”

_Uh_. 

“Because you already know he isn’t, you just refuse to acknowledge it.”

“Ah, yes. Let’s talk about that for a moment.”

“What is there to talk about, Balthazar?” Castiel stared down at his camera as he spoke. “Dean wanted to just, enjoy it. Not make things complicated. I agreed.”

“Oh, you _agreed._ How lovely. And, of course, neither of you wants more?”

“That’s right,” Castiel said firmly, his voice sounding much more sure than he felt. Because these weren’t thoughts he allowed himself to have, especially not about Dean. 

“Well, I can tell you one thing. Pretty boy is a liar.”

Castiel glared at him, crossing his arms protectively across his chest. Balthazar was rapidly reminding him why he generally didn’t enjoy the company of many other people, and retreating to the silence of his room with a book was sounding better and better by the second. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”  


“Answer me this. Dean walks in right now, in all of his perfect-haired, swaggering, green-eyed goodness, and asks you to be his boyfriend. What do you say?”

_Shit shit shit._  

Castiel just stared at him for a minute, his blue eyes wide. 

“That would never happen.”

“There’s your answer,” Balthazar smirked, spreading his arms out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You two buffoons, throwing up walls before the other can even knock on the gates.”

“You’re mixing metaphors,” Castiel grumbled, trying very hard _not_ to understand what Balthazar was saying. 

“You know what I mean.”

He did. That didn’t make it true, because he didn’t build up walls. He wasn’t building up walls now. There was no reason to. Him and Dean were just, having some fun. One night together wasn’t serious. Home-cooked meals weren’t serious. Meeting the family wasn’t serious. Right?

_Shit. Shit shit shit._

“Can we finish this, please?” Castiel said calmly, letting his worries soak into the floor and grounding himself with the camera in his hands. 

“Of course, Cassie,” Balthazar smiled, finally turning back around and finally, _finally_ shutting his mouth. 

***

Castiel called Anna after Balthazar left. He had about seven texts from her already telling him to “freaking call her RIGHT NOW”, so he figured he should get it over with. 

_“Hellooooo jerkface,”_ Anna said, sounding thoroughly pissed off. _“Why the hell haven’t you called me yet?”_

“I had a shoot that I completely forgot about, and he just left.”

_“You sound particularly exasperated about that.”_

“That obvious?” Castiel sighed, flopping down on his bed. The comforter was all rumpled from that morning still, and the sight of it left a content sort of warmth in his chest. The slight smell of leather helped too. 

_“I would ask, but I’m way more interested in what happened last night.”_

Of course she was. 

“Nothing really happened,” Castiel started, almost tasting the outrageous lie as it came out of his mouth. Anna made a disbelieving noise over the phone, so Castiel edited his story. “Well, okay. Some… _things_ happened. And—”

_“Castiel!”_ Anna squealed, giggling. _“This is the most exciting day of my life.”_

“Of your life?” Castiel laughed reluctantly, dragging his fingers through his hair. He needed to shower pretty badly, and he could feel the strands sticking up with each pull. 

_“Yes. Shhh. How was the sleepover? Whose idea was it? Are you sleep compatible?”_

“Sleep compatible?” Castiel sighed, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses and wondering idly if he had time to take a quick nap before getting ready for dinner. 

_“Yeah, like, did you sleep well together? Did he hog the blankets? No, wait,”_ she paused, and Castiel could practically see the self-impressed expression on her face. _“You’re totally the blanket hog. Did_ you _hog the blankets?”_

“Am not,” Castiel huffed in annoyance. He considered her question for a moment, his mind drifting back to the restful night’s sleep and the quiet warmth of Dean’s arms wrapped around him in the morning. “And no, I didn’t. Neither did he. It was…nice. Yeah.”

_Nice. Hah! Sure. Nice. That’s one word._

Unfortunately, Anna didn’t buy his bullshit either. 

_“Come_ on _, Castiel. Work with me here. ‘Nice’? Really?”_

“What do you want me to say? I…”

_Want to do it again. Want to do it every night. Want endless mornings like this one. Want want want. Want Dean._

“I enjoyed myself. It was _nice_. I don’t know.”

_“Oh my lord you two are adorable.”_

“Anna,” Castiel groaned. “Please stop.”

_“Just saying!”_ she giggled, finally staying quiet for long enough to force Castiel to formulate his thoughts. 

“Can I ask you something?”

_“Ominous, but yes.”_

He paused again, not sure how to say this without Anna freaking out. Because it was probably innocent. Probably. 

“Do you think…I mean…is this, maybe, um, not what I think it is?” He hesitated, sort of afraid of her answer and still needing to know. “That maybe it’s less, or, more?”

Anna sighed heavily on the other end of the line, but it sounded exasperated more than pitying so that seemed like a good sign. 

_“Do you want best friend Anna or honest Anna?”_ she paused for about half a second, barely giving Castiel time to register what she said before answering her own question. _“Scratch that. How about both?”_

“Go ahead.”

_“Honest Anna says you are totally boyfriends, get over it,”_ she said quickly, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. _“And don’t bother fighting me over the title, because you know as well as I do that that’s not the problem.”_

“Fair,” Castiel conceded, his lips twitching up just barely in a self-conscious sort of way. Anna knew him far too well. 

_“Best friend Anna says that I know you’re falling for him.”_ He flinched a little bit, more from her words than anything else. Because hearing it out loud like that…she made it real. And now it was out in the world and in the air all around them and smothering him like heavy smoke. Castiel didn’t just like Dean. He didn’t just enjoy his company, or think he was attractive. Castiel was falling for him, falling fast and hard and who even knew where he would land. All he really knew was that the ground wasn’t kind to fragile souls. _“I know it’s scary. So don’t fall alone.”_

“That was deep, Anna,” he tried, working on clearing the words from his mind. “That was heavy.”

_“Doing my duty,”_ she said, a smile in her voice. _“And quit deflecting. You need to talk to him, you really do.”_

She was right. Of course she was right. She always was. 

“What do I even say? ‘Hey, Dean, are you my boyfriend? No? Okay, great. What’s for dinner?’”

_“Dinner?”_ Anna mused, a smile in her voice. _“And I’d work on your delivery.”_

Castiel rolled his eyes, rubbing them gently. 

“He invited me to dinner. Tonight.” 

_“Like…dinner dinner or just dinner?”_

“Dinner at his house. With his brother.”

_“Oh my god that is so much worse._ ”

“Thanks a lot,” Castiel scowled, fully aware that she couldn’t see his displeased expression and not really caring one bit. 

_“Sorry! I meant better. This is better.”_

Castiel just scoffed, because it sure didn’t feel better. It felt like he was talking into a death trap. Mostly because, well, families _didn’t_ love him. Well, the few that he’d met, anyway. Anna’s parents found him generally pretty strange, but they pretended not to notice. Castiel just, wasn’t great at first impressions. If it weren’t for Anna’s mulish determination that they _were_ going to be friends, thank you very much, he might never have even learned her last name. And if Dean hadn’t been his subject, lord knows he wouldn’t have spared Castiel more than a passing glance. 

And now Castiel was expected to make a good first impression with Dean’s _brother_ , despite not having the foggiest idea of what the hell he was supposed to be _impressing_. It sort of helped that he had actually met Sam before, and it also sort of didn’t. Because Sam wasn’t going to be drunk at a party with his equally as drunk, if not more drunk, older brother. This was Sam in his home, with his brother, and Castiel was panicking. 

All of this, of course, was far too much to articulate. Anna knew what he was thinking anyway. He just let out a dramatic whine, sinking further down into his mattress and searching for the smell he knew was there. 

_“I know, sweetheart. But listen, Sam’s easy. He’s just a kid.”_

“He’s two years younger than us, Anna. Not that different.”

_“Oh, whatever. You’re adorable, he’s going to love you.”_

***

Castiel hung on to those words as he stood outside Dean’s front door waiting for someone to answer. Dean had sent him the address, and the Impala had been in the parking lot, but maybe this was the wrong house. Maybe he’d misremembered. Maybe Dean forgot, and wasn’t even home. Maybe…

The door swung open abruptly, revealing a familiar face and a familiar mop of hair that suddenly looked far _less_ puppy-like. 

“Good to see you again, Castiel. Cas okay?” Sam smiled, genuinely if not a little bit tight. 

“Sure, Sam. Nice to see you, too.”

His voice sounded steady, but his body was inexplicably nervous. It was probably the way that Sam was appraising him, eyes traveling from his slightly dirty shoes to his thin t-shirt to his thick rimmed glasses, in a way that he hadn’t the first time they’d met. 

“Come on in. Dean’s cooking,” Sam gestured behind him, through a small entryway and around a corner where Castiel assumed he’d find the kitchen. He pressed his lips into a thin line and stepped through the threshold, steeling himself just slightly. When he stepped around the corner he took in the sight in front of him, trying to get an idea for it without really _staring,_ exactly. 

The room was open and warm and clean, with a small half-wall separating the living room from the kitchen. Absolutely everything was in its place, even the blankets and pillows on the couches. The lights hanging from the ceiling were old, but they emitted a golden warm light that gave the whole place a homey feel. There was a small table against the wall, meant for maybe two or three, plus the plush looking black couches and a TV that was much larger than Castiel’s own. An extravagance, he was sure, but one that seemed to fit what he knew of Dean.

Shelves of DVD’s and books were organized on either side of the TV, probably alphabetical, everything standing up straight and perfectly aligned. The remotes on the small table in front of the couches were placed perfectly parallel to one another, lined up in order of size from a large gray one to a small black one that was almost flat. Castiel wasn’t sure that he’d expected Dean’s house to be messy, necessarily, but he certainly hadn’t expected this level of almost militaristic organization. 

Dean was standing at a counter straight ahead of him, on the other side of the wall, elbows deep in some kind of smushy looking concoction that was filling a large bowl on one of the kitchen counters. There was music playing just a smidge too loud, something Castiel didn’t recognize, and Dean seemed to be mouthing the words quietly. He’d changed clothes from that morning, into a soft looking t-shirt and torn jeans, with hair that was a little more mussed than usual, and Castiel was hopelessly hypnotized. 

“Give him a minute,” Sam said, taking a seat on one of the couches at the far end of the room, furthest from the kitchen. “Unless you want a lecture on ‘how great burgers take focus’.” 

Castiel smiled hesitantly, lingering sort of awkwardly next to the couch but not wanting to sit just yet. He kept waiting for Sam’s demeanor to lighten up, for it to evolve back into the goofy kid he’d met at Lisa’s place. This Sam was serious and staring at Castiel with suspicion in his eyes. 

"We're having burgers?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Wonder why," he mumbled under his breath, a note of sarcasm in the undertone. Silence fell between them, the uncomfortable kind that Castiel felt obligated to fill. 

“Was, um,” Castiel hesitated, not sure that this was appropriate but sort of at a loss for anything else to say. “Was someone in the military?”

Sam seemed startled at this, narrowing his eyes at Castiel and taking a full couple of seconds to actually answer. A mixture of emotions smoothed across his features before he settled back into more neutral emotional territory. 

“You don’t miss much, do you?”

Castiel really couldn’t help the surprise that blanketed his face, because that was not the reaction he’d been expecting. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Dad,” Sam interrupted, glancing over at Dean with a sad sort of look on his face. Dean was oblivious, of course, still lost in his cooking and apparently full on singing along by now. “Long time ago. Marines. I guess some of it sort of…trickled down.”

Castiel just nodded, not sure exactly what he was supposed to say. It was awkward, this information, because it wasn’t coming from Dean, and he wasn't entirely sure why Sam was even telling him. He sort of didn’t want to hear it, but he also sort of _did_ because it was _Dean_ and he just wanted to know a lot of things. So he let Sam talk. 

“He’d kill me, if he heard this. But,” Sam laughed, shaking his head at his brother in the kitchen. “Dean and Bobby, they were more fathers to me than Dad ever was. I think I was spared, most of it at least. But Dean, he, got the brunt of it. I guess.”

“What’s your dad like?” Castiel asked, not sure where the words came from but interested to hear the answer anyway. 

“A lot like Dean, scarily enough. Without the good parts.”

“There are good parts?” Castiel hummed, mostly to himself. He glanced over at Dean as he said it, feeling a tiny smile tug at his lips. He turned back when he heard Sam laugh, that goofy smile that Castiel had seen him wearing the first time back on his face. It suited him, more than this serious impression he was trying to pull. 

“I ask myself that a lot. But when you grow up with Dad, you learn to appreciate the stupid movie references and bad jokes, even the ancient music and the nonstop flirting,” he flashed a guilty look at Castiel, running a huge hand through his long hair. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Castiel tilted his head, not entirely sure what Sam should be apologizing for. 

“Uh, nothing.” Sam squinted his eyes briefly, looking almost confused before he composed himself. He opened his mouth to say something else, but something over Castiel’s shoulder caught his attention before any words got out.

Before Castiel could even react he felt strong hands on his hips, spinning him around and wrapping him up in one smooth motion. Familiar lips covered his own, arms wrapped tight around his waist. His hands automatically found their way up to the sides of Dean’s neck, his lips parting far too easily under Dean’s touch. Somewhere far away he heard Sam clear his throat, making Dean pull back slowly and reluctantly. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Dean was grinning at him, cocky and absolutely _dripping_ with flirtatiousness. Castiel raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but Dean just grinned even wider.

“Gross, Dean,” Sam grumbled, sparing Castiel from whatever half-formed response he might have managed just then. 

“Like you and Jess aren’t like, totally nauseating,” Dean replied, never really taking his eyes off of Castiel’s face. 

“Jerk.” 

Castiel heard Sam get up off the couch and walk away, probably to some other room where his brother wasn’t being “gross.” 

“Bitch!” Dean called after him, still grinning. “You kids talking about me?” he said a little bit more quietly, to Castiel this time. 

“All bad things, I assure you,” Castiel murmured, trying to squirm out of Dean’s grasp. Dean just laughed and held him tighter, kissing up the side of his neck. 

“You can’t escape, skinny dude.”

“You could, say, let me go?” Castiel sighed, giving up on his attempts. _Maybe_ he bared his neck just a _little_ bit more, just _maybe_. Probably not, but just…maybe. 

“Nah.”

“When, exactly, are you going to quit acting so childish?”

Dean shrugged, unbothered. “When, _exactly_ , are you going to quit acting like you don’t like me?”

Castiel inhaled, and promptly forgot how to exhale. Their eyes met for a few seconds, the spark of a challenge in Dean’s eyes and a barely-there pinkness underneath the freckles on his cheeks. 

“I do like you,” Castiel said quietly, _far_ softer and _far_ more sincere than he had intended. The grin slid off of Dean’s face, his eyes widening just slightly. “More than I should.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and deafening. Dean released him slowly, stepping back almost nervously. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring down and avoiding Castiel’s gaze. 

“Cas, I, uh—”

_Shit shit shit._

Castiel backtracked, throwing out the first thing he could think of to cover his tracks. Anna would kill him, but it would be better than whatever Dean was about to say.

“I mean, considering what a bad model you were. I shouldn’t put up with you at all.”

_Smooth, Castiel. Real smooth._

Dean glanced up at him through his eyelashes, his lips parted and something in his eyes that looked a whole lot like relief that Castiel really didn’t want to decipher. His mouth cracked into a smile, growing less hesitant by the second. 

“Lying bastard. I was friggin’ great. The best, even.”

“Sure, Dean,” Castiel rolled his eyes. “Can we eat now?”

Dean stepped towards him again, pushing a hand through Castiel’s already messy hair. He settled his hand on the nape of his neck, tugging him forward and kissing him breathless—not for the first time, of course. 

And somehow that soothed the burn that Castiel was feeling. Dean didn’t like words, but he spoke in other ways, ways that Castiel could hear loud and clear. 

“You got it.”

***

“So. Castiel. What are your intentions with my brother?”

Castiel practically spat water all over Sam, barely managing to avoid it through a vigorous coughing fit that Dean seemed to find highly amusing. 

“Jesus, Sammy. What am I, your virgin daughter?”

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam snapped, his glare not making Dean wilt in the slightest. “Cas?”

Castiel glanced at Dean, looking for some kind of back up, and just got a laugh and a shrug in response. 

“I’m not sure that I have any intentions. Other than tarnishing his good name, of course.” Castiel maintained a straight face while he spoke, doing his best to hold Sam’s gaze. Sam narrowed his eyes, searching Castiel’s face for god knows what, before breaking into a laugh. 

“Okay,” Sam nodded, grinning in that puppy dog way of his, not so unlike his brother. “Okay.”

Castiel’s lips twitched up, some of his nervousness fading away. Dean was looking back and forth between the two of them, his eyebrows raised. 

“You guys done?”

Castiel looked at Sam for verification, glad to see the tightness of his smile had melted away. Sam just rolled his eyes at his brother, ignoring his commentary and continuing with his food. Castiel offered up a tiny shrug, just barely smiling down at his plate in lieu of actual words. 

Dean sighed heavily, grumbling something under his breath, and Castiel couldn’t help but feel like this had been a test, and that he had definitely passed. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Later, Cas,” he sighed, his eyes closed and their foreheads resting together. “Later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a sick little infant right now but I think I really liked this one. The updates are coming slow for everything, but I swear they are coming. Loves y'all

After the initial weirdness, the rest of the evening was actually quite nice. They ate, and then Dean convinced the both of them to join him for a game of Mario Kart. Castiel had never played, but this, of course, only gave him an advantage. 

_“Dude,”_ Dean groaned, flopping down on the floor and flinging the controller across the carpet. “How. Just how. How in the _hell_ do you keep beating me?”

Castiel smiled innocently, and Sam just kept on laughing next to him. 

“Dean, I think you might have an inflated sense of your skills in this game.” Dean huffed angrily in response and crossed his arms, looking very much like he wanted to throw a tantrum. “Even Sam has been beating you sometimes.”

Sam laughed even louder at this, tossing his head back and clapping his hands. 

“Hear that, jerk?” Sam clapped Castiel on the shoulder. “You’re the worst of the group.”

“Am not,” Dean growled, glaring at both of them. “This is it. Final round. Rainbow fucking road.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed, settling back into the couch and wiping his hands on his jeans before picking his controller back up. 

“If you insist on embarrassing yourself.”

Dean glared at him again, crawling over to pick up his controller and leaning back against Castiel’s legs. Castiel responded by wrapping his socked feet around Dean’s waist, locking his ankles together and squeezing his torso with his legs. Dean didn’t say anything, but Castiel felt one of his hands stroking the bare skin underneath his pants leg. 

“Ready, Sammy?” 

“Bring it on.”

And with that the race started. Castiel hung back for most of it, letting Dean and Sam duke it out with all of their bananas and red shells and various other weapons. It wasn’t until the end of the last lap that he set his plan in motion. 

“Hey, Sam. Look,” Castiel gestured towards the screen, at the spiky blue shell with wings sitting in the corner. 

“Shit,” Sam cursed loudly, hitting the brakes just as Castiel released the shell. Dean made a confused noise as he shot into first place, just in time for the shell to hit him. 

And because that wasn’t enough, Dean was close enough that it blew up Sam too. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, mashing buttons to get his car going again as Castiel glided past him and across the finish line. 

“That was fun,” Castiel sighed, setting his controller down and smiling while Dean and Sam whined and complained. 

“You are _such_ a cheater,” Dean grumbled, leaning his head backwards to rest on Castiel’s thighs while his legs stayed wrapped around his waist. 

“Not true. I seized an opportunity.”

“Dick,” Dean replied, his scowl melting into a hungry looking grin as he found Castiel’s hands with both of his own. 

“Ugh,” Sam sighed, standing up and walking away. “I’m leaving before this gets gross again. Night guys.”

“Night Sammy,” Dean called after him, holding Castiel’s gaze. Castiel kept staring right back, Dean’s face slightly pink and all upside down. “You hustled me.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did t—”

Castiel stopped him before Dean could even finish, swallowing his words. If Dean was surprised he didn’t show it, kissing back eagerly and wasting no time in finding Castiel’s hair with his fingers. Castiel heard himself moan into Dean’s mouth, felt Dean tense and press harder into the kiss. 

“We need to find a closed door like, five minutes ago,” Dean said as he pulled away abruptly, standing and turning to pull Castiel to his feet. 

“What for?” Castiel tilted his head, all feigned innocence.

“‘Cause I want to rip your clothes off,” Dean mumbled against the skin of Castiel’s neck, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding their bodies close together. 

“That can probably be arranged,” Castiel’s lips twitched up, laughter in his voice. 

They stumbled their way to Dean’s room together, kissing and laughing when they tripped on each other. Dean fell back on the bed first, not bothering with lights or even giving Castiel half a second to look around. He just pulled Castiel down on top of him, his hands already finding their way underneath his shirt. Castiel braced himself on his elbows, one on either side of Dean’s head, nuzzling Dean’s neck and trailing kisses along the skin. 

“How was the asshole today,” Dean sighed, running soothing hands up and down Castiel’s back, his fingers pressing into the muscles on either side of his spine. 

Castiel stilled slightly, surprised by the turn of conversation in a not entirely unpleasant way. 

“Not any worse than usual.”

_Liar. Way worse than usual._  

“Better than nothin’,” Dean laughed, and Castiel couldn’t help but smile at how he bounced just a tiny bit on Dean’s chest.

“He suspended the incessant flirtatiousness for the day, so that was a nice relief.”

Dean huffed, tightening his hands the tiniest bit, he probably didn’t even notice he’d done it. “How noble of him. You guys are done now, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel pulled back to look him in the eyes, narrowing his gaze and tilting his head. “So you can quit being so grumpy about it.”

“I’m not _grumpy_. Just don’t like the guy.”

“Uh huh,” Castiel teased, ignoring the niggling voice in his head that was screaming that this was definitely _boyfriend_ behavior. That jealousy was a thing _boyfriends_ dealt with, not hookups or friends with benefits or whatever the hell else you wanted to call it. 

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, sounding all defensive. Castiel just rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to Dean’s lips and burying his fingers in the short, light brown hairs before kissing his way along the stretch of Dean’s neck. That seemed to placate him, if the soft sigh was anything to go by. 

Castiel moved slowly, licking and nipping at the skin until he felt Dean start to move underneath him, his hips pressing up in search of any kind of friction. His breathing was just barely faster than normal, his hands holding just a little bit tighter, the skin underneath Castiel’s hands just a few degrees warmer. 

Something in Castiel’s brain clicked, and he found the words he felt like he’d been lacking this whole time. Because he wanted, wanted without restraint, without fear, without end. He _wanted_. This, all of it. Everything. 

“Dean, I—” was all he managed before Dean was kissing him, cutting off his words and drawing a whimper from his throat. 

“Later, Cas,” he sighed, his eyes closed and their foreheads resting together. “Later.”

The restraints came crashing down, pulled him back from that edge. 

“Okay.”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together, a pained look crossing his face for a few seconds before he rolled them both over and Castiel lost sight of his expression. 

Dean pulled Castiel’s shirt off over his head, slowly, letting Castiel do the same to him. Next were socks, and pants, and boxers, and then they were completely naked and pressed against each other and Castiel had no idea how to process that much sensation. Dean soothed him, big, strong hands against his bare back, warm lips against his own. Castiel touched Dean where he could, trying desperately to function while being overloaded on so many other fronts. 

The snap of a plastic cap pulled Castiel back to the present, and he had exactly half a second to freak out before Dean knew something was wrong. 

“Not what it’s for,” he murmured against the skin of Castiel’s neck, pulling back to make eye contact and cupping Castiel’s jaw in his calloused hand. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Castiel shook his head. No way in _hell_. 

Dean was doing something with his hands, but Castiel was far too distracted by Dean’s tongue in his mouth to care much about it. His fingers tugged on the short hairs at the back of Dean’s scalp, his legs wrapped around Dean’s thighs. 

When Dean finally did touch him, Castiel was fairly certain he blacked out for at least a couple of seconds. His hand was cold and damp, the skin of their hardened cocks sliding together and sending sparks of pleasure shooting up Castiel’s spine. He moaned long and loud, tossing his head back and digging his fingers into the skin of Dean’s shoulder. 

_“Fuck,”_ Dean growled against the skin of his neck, scraping his teeth against the tendons and inhaling deeply. He pulled back suddenly, his thumb covering Castiel’s lips and his wild green eyes staring straight into Castiel’s blue ones. 

“Angel,” he murmured, “I got a brother here. Much as I’d like to scar him, I gotta live with him. So you gotta be quiet. Capiche?” 

Castiel managed a glare before he sucked Dean’s thumb into his mouth, running his tongue along the length and nipping the pad with his teeth. Dean’s jaw might as well have hit the floor for the complete look of utter shock that was on his face. His eyes were fiery and hungry, and it only took a couple of seconds for the surprise to morph into a grin. 

“Shut up,” Castiel snapped, only succeeding in making the grin grow wider. 

Then Dean was kissing him, and his hand was moving, and all Castiel could do was react. His hips thrusting into Dean’s fist, his muffled moans swallowed by Dean’s mouth. Castiel let both his hands run down Dean’s back, his nails raking along the skin all the way down to his ass. Dean let out a low groan, his hips stuttering and his rhythm faltering for just a moment. When he managed to gather himself his pace picked up, and thank god that Dean was kissing him because Castiel couldn’t have held back on noise if he tried. 

_“Dean,”_ Castiel whimpered as he came, his whole body clinging to Dean like his life depended on it. He felt the warmth of both of their releases splash onto his stomach, the weight of Dean’s body lowering onto him as his muscles gave out. 

“The fuck are you doing to me, man,” Dean mumbled between heavy breaths, a warmth to his tone that sounded heartbreakingly sad. 

“I don’t—”

And then Dean was kissing him, before Castiel could even think about forming more words. His clean hand cupped Castiel’s jaw, his thumb sliding across his cheek and a soft sigh melting out of his body. 

They kissed long and lazily for a while, their grips on each other never loosening. Castiel’s mind was floating in the clouds, everything else thrown away except for _Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean._  

***

Castiel woke up warm and happy, surrounded by the smell of Dean all around him. In the blanket, in the pillows, everywhere. Wrapping him up in a cocoon of leathery warmth. He smiled to himself quietly, soaking up the moment before blinking fully awake, feeling for his glasses on the table. 

It wasn’t until he slid them on his nose that he realized that Dean wasn’t actually there. The covers were rumpled all around him and the sun was shining through the window, but the bed was empty. Castiel glanced around the room for the first time, noticing the relatively bare walls and the same strict cleanliness that he’d noticed out in the other parts of the place. There were a handful of pictures in frames set out on the bedside table, a tall lamp, two posters on the wall of bands that Castiel vaguely remembered hearing about at some point. 

There was a coffee mug on the side table too, yellow and chipped and kind of old looking. Castiel reached for it, realizing it was empty before the smile even reached his lips. Not completely empty though. A small piece of paper was folded up inside, familiar scrawl across it. 

_was gonna leave you some coffee, then remembered you sleep like the dead and figured it’d be cold._

_so there’s a pot in the kitchen. play nice with Sammy._

Castiel couldn’t help but smile as he read. He snuggled back down into the blankets for a few more minutes, soaking up the smell around him and dozing on and off. It would’ve been better with Dean actually there, but Castiel had to admit that it was a pretty good way to wake up. 

Although, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t exactly sure where Dean actually was. His note suggested that he wasn’t home, which was odd since he certainly could’ve woken Castiel up with him if he had somewhere to be. Eventually curiosity got the best of him and Castiel dragged himself out of bed, pulling on his clothes before slipping out into the living room. 

Sam was sitting on the couch, a laptop on his lap and a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. The TV was on, just the news, but Sam didn’t seem to be paying much attention to it. 

“Good morning,” Castiel tried, his voice sounding scratchy and soft. Sam turned to look at him, a small smile on his face. 

“Morning, Cas. Dean was right, you are a sleeper.”

“Um?” was all Castiel managed before Sam laughed, turning back to the computer. 

“It’s just after noon. Dean got called in to work. Seemed pretty pissed about it, too.”

“Oh.”

“Grab some coffee, man. Sit down.”

Castiel ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating just leaving for a moment before deciding that that was probably a bad idea. Sam was offering him an olive branch, and it would've probably been a good idea to take it. 

He wandered into the kitchen and filled up his yellow mug, sticking with black coffee that was strong and pleasingly bitter. He took a spot on the couch that Sam wasn’t occupying, tucking his feet up underneath him. 

“So, um, you said you’re going into law?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded sort of absently, typing something before shutting his laptop. 

“What kind?”

“Not sure, exactly. I’d like to, make some kind of difference. You know?”

Castiel hummed and took a drink of his coffee, feeling the warmth snake down his throat. 

“My older brother, he’s in law. But I can’t say that he has the same noble intentions. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Corporate?” Sam asked, his interest clearly peaking. 

Castiel paused, not entirely sure he wanted to establish this particular familial connection but not entirely comfortable ignoring it, either. 

“Have you heard of the firm Nk Associates?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam laughed, like Castiel had just tried to tell him the sky was blue. “That’s like, the best firm in SF. Maybe in California, even.”

“The Nk stands for Novak,” Castiel pointed at himself. “Castiel Novak.”

Sam stared at him for a few seconds, his big brown eyes wide. 

“Woah.”

Castiel hummed, staring back at the TV and picking up pieces about the story that was playing. Something about the drought, again. 

“That’s your brother?”

“Unfortunately.”

“No offense, but he’s kind of a dick. Great lawyer, but kind of a dick.”

“You’re telling me,” Castiel laughed lightly. “I grew up with him.”

“He that much of a dick at home?”

“Worse, if you can believe it.”

Sam stared at him, all big, sad, puppy eyes and floppy hair. It felt sort of weird, sharing all this. Kind of good too, though. He could understand why Sam was so important to Dean. Sam was probably a really good brother, probably did things that brothers were supposed to do, like eating the last of the good cereal and actually giving a shit. 

“Dean, he, uh, works at that garage. Couple of streets over. You could go see him, if you want. He wouldn’t mind. Maybe bring him lunch.”

Castiel blinked at him, caught off guard by the turn in conversation. 

“Trust me. There’s a sandwich place on the way that he likes, number 11.”

“Okay,” Castiel nodded finishing his coffee and unfolding himself from the couch. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Castiel put his cup in the sink and made his way to the door, pulling on his shoes and jacket. 

“Hey, Cas?”

He hummed, glancing back over his shoulder at Sam. He was looking particularly unsure of himself, staring down at the ground and tucking his long hair behind his ear. 

“You probably got this already, but, uh, Dean doesn’t do…this. Whatever you guys are doing.”

_Wish I knew._

“Um. Okay?”

“So just…be patient with him,” Sam said with a sad sort of smile. “You mean something to him, even if he won’t say it.”

Something nasty in Castiel’s mind laughed at that, at little old useless him meaning anything to Dean Winchester. But he shoved it away for another time, filling himself with Sam’s words. 

“Okay,” he managed, nodding. “Okay.”

***

The garage was easy to find, a big rusty sign out front that said “Singer Auto”. Castiel slipped in the front door, surprised to see a familiar blonde standing at the front counter. 

“Jo?”

“Well, if it isn’t Dean’s boo,” she said with a smile, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You look like you had a wild night.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she laughed, pointing at a door on the side with her pen. “In there. And next time, bring me some.”

Castiel’s lips twitched up and he shook his head at her as he stepped through the door. 

The room on the other side was cluttered with car parts and tools, scattered around with some sort of vague organizational system in mind. There were several cars in various states of disassembly in the huge room, some missing tires, some rusting, some with just the hoods open. Two cars down there was a red sedan, it’s hood popped open and a pair of familiar booted feet sticking out from under it. 

Castiel made his way over, setting his paper bag down on the car next to it and trying not to smile as he poked one of the legs with the toe of his shoe. Dean jumped, and Castiel heard a thunk that sounded a lot like a forehead smacking into metal. 

“Jesus shit, Jo,” he grumbled, rolling out from under the car as he spoke. “I told you to stop—”

Dean froze when he got out from under the car and his eyes settled on Castiel standing over him. 

“Cas?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean stood up slowly, staring at Castiel with the strangest look on his face. Castiel filled the silence, not really sure what Dean was thinking. 

“I brought you lunch. Sam said—”

Dean interrupted him with a kiss, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist and pushing him up against the side of the red sedan. Castiel squeaked in surprise, his hands finding the sides of Dean’s neck and his thumbs stroking the barely there scruff on his jawline. 

“You are absolutely not allowed to show up here like this,” Dean growled, resting their foreheads together. 

“I didn’t—”

Dean kissed him again, silencing whatever excuse Castiel was going to give. 

“I literally had to leave you naked in my bed this morning. Then you friggin’ show up here with your stupid hair. Not cool, dude.”

“You know this is just how it looks,” Castiel’s lips twitched up when he realized Dean was angry for a completely different reason. 

“Yeah, well, you _look_ like you had a couple'a rounds of rough morning sex.”

“Hmm,” Castiel hummed, sliding his hands down Dean’s chest and around his waist to slide into his back pockets. “Unfortunately that isn’t the case, since I woke up alone.”

“Cas,” Dean said, a light warning in his voice. Castiel ignored it, pulling his hips closer. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Couldn’t resist the urge to leave the hot guy in my bed,” Dean winked, a cocky grin on his face. There was something there, though, something more sincere than usual. 

“Next time,” Castiel murmured, knowing that this was a promise and not minding one bit, “you better wake me up.”

Dean smiled, his eye brows inching up. There was barely a centimeter between their lips, and Castiel had to resist the urge to close the gap. “Or what?”

“Never mind that. Now get off me.”

Castiel pushed lightly at his chest, but it took several more minutes of completely-inappropriate-for-work kisses before Dean whined and backed away. 

“What’d you bring me?”

Castiel handed over the paper bag, watching as a happy grin spread across his face. 

“Dude. I friggin’—”

Dean cut himself off, his eyes widening and his ears turing red for a second before he got a handle on himself. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, looking shy for a split second. 

“Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel hummed, tilting his head at that odd little display. “I’ll let you eat.”

“No way, man,” Dean laughed, grabbing Castiel’s hand. “Bobby’s not here. You can stay while I eat, Jo won’t rat on us.”

“Fine,” Castiel sighed. “But only because I think I’d like to try that sandwich.”

Dean laughed and kissed him, and they sat together on an old work bench and Castiel only really had a bite or two but he didn’t really mind. And when he finally emerged from the garage about thirty minutes later—once Dean finally admitted that he did actually need to get back to work—looking appropriately dazed, Jo just laughed knowingly and sent him on his way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lil' shipper Sammy, lil' Samstiel bonding, lil' Dean being a huge puppy with a lot of feelings, lil' fluff, lil' smut, all this makes for a very happy fic.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You stink.”
> 
> “Thanks,” he huffed, laughing quietly. “Smells like teen spirit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo this took a while huh? But I'm just giving you guys all the updates tonight. If you're reading Ab Aeterno, that'll update soon too I promise. Anyway. Not much else to say. Who wants to meet Charlie?
> 
> *one million kisses*

Castiel didn’t hear from Dean on Sunday, or on Monday. He wanted to be annoyed, or do something about it, but he wasn’t really sure that was allowed. Anna rolled her eyes at him and told him to stop being so stupid, but he didn’t listen to her. 

_“Maybe_ he wants you to come to _him,”_ Anna said on their way into the photography building on Tuesday morning, poking him in the ribs with a sharp elbow. 

“Or _maybe_ he wants some space.”

“ _Not_ likely,” she huffed, crossing her arms and slumping down into a chair. “It’s just weird.”

“I realize that,” Castiel said, rubbing his eyes and fixing his glasses. “I don’t exactly need you to tell me. Now can we drop it?”

“Ugh. Fine.”

She didn’t sound happy about it, but she didn’t bring it up again so that was something. It had only been a couple of days anyway. Dean was allowed to do his own thing for a few days. Even if those days happened to be right after the first weekend they spent the night together. Whatever. That was fine. That didn’t mean anything. 

Castiel had more important things to worry about anyway. They were getting new models that day in portraits, and Castiel was already trying to decide what kind of face he needed. What he really needed was a redhead. Unfortunate, since there weren’t many, and his professor was probably going to make him choose last again. 

“You’re Cas, right?” a voice said, a couple of minutes before class was even supposed to start. He glanced up, catching sight of a peppy looking redhead standing directly in front of him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place why. 

“Yes?” he said unsurely, furrowing his eyebrows. “Do I know you?”

“Nope!” she smiled, pulling her colorful backpack up her shoulder. “Not officially, at least. I know you though. Lots about you. Well. Maybe not lots. More than you know about me. Is that weird? I’m not creepy though. I mean you don’t even know my name!”

“Um,” Castiel exchanged a look with Anna, looking for some kind of hint as to who this girl was. Anna’s eyes were wide and her lips were pulled down, like she was doing everything in her power not to laugh out loud. 

“I’m Charlie. Dean’s friend?”

_That’s_ why he knew her. Of course. The Harry Potter girl. 

“Ah right. You’re the one Dean _didn’t_ sleep with.”

“Yes!” she laughed, clapping her hands. “That’s me. Though, to be fair, your friend here is more my type than good old Dean-o. But don’t worry, I don’t go for fellow gingers. Not trying to perpetuate the bloodline, you know? Although it _would_ be totally amazing to create my own batch of Weasley’s, unfortunately I don’t have the parts.”

Anna’s valiant efforts reached their limits and she burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to cover it up. The other students were staring, but their professor hadn’t arrived yet so they had a little bit of time. 

“Wow, you are great. How haven’t we met yet?”

“I like my computer and my Xbox more than people,” Charlie said simply, that perky smile still on her face. Anna was laughing again and Castiel had to roll his eyes at her, trying to focus back on the situation at hand. 

“Not to be rude, but, why are you here?” Castiel asked, fixing his glasses. 

“To be your model, of course,” she posed dramatically, flipping her hair without the tiniest drop of grace. “Dean said you were in need of my fiery locks.”

“Dean said?”

_Did he even tell Dean he needed a redhead? He must have. Right? But when? And how did Dean even remember that? Why did Dean even remember that?_

“Yep! So are you ready? Or?”

“Uh,” Castiel exchanged another look with Anna, her eyebrows raised and a surprised little frown on her face. “Yes?”

“Cool.”

Castiel gathered up his stuff and followed Charlie out the door, talking with his professor briefly before leaving. She nodded stiffly at him but didn’t make any other comment, so hopefully that meant the arrangement was okay. 

“Would you like coffee?” Castiel tried once they were outside, fixing his glasses and adjusting his backpack. 

“I don’t really do coffee. Makes me crazy. I like tea though. Strictly herbal,” she grinned, skipping towards the coffee shop on campus. “No caffeine for me.”

Castiel followed her, and a few minutes later they were walking back to his place, a black coffee in his hands and some kind of herbal tea in hers. 

“So, how’s this work?”

“We’ll work together for two weeks. My project involves close-ups of different parts of the body, clothed and not, so each session we will cover one or two of these areas. Hands, shoulders, facial close-ups. My goal is to have everything feel natural and unscripted, so you’ll need to feel comfortable enough with me to be yourself.”

“Dude, I can do unscripted. Candid Charlie is the best Charlie. I’ve never modeled before, but I have totally watched those shows on TV and Heidi Klum is like, super gorgeous. So I can totally pretend like I’m her.”

Castiel stared at her again, trying to process each piece. “You talk a lot.”

She paused to stare at him, then burst out laughing. “Smooth, dude. I mean, _I_ know I talk a lot. But nobody ever _says_ it. You must not have much of a filter huh?”

“I actually think I have quite a good filter,” Castiel said as his lips twitched up. “You should hear all of the things I don’t say out loud.”

“I think I like you, Castiel,” she laughed again, clapping him on the shoulder. 

He liked her too. She was the embodiment of candid, and despite all the talking she was actually quite relaxing to be around. It was nice knowing that everything she thought was right there out in the open. 

In front of the camera, though, she was less bubbly. Castiel found that out on Thursday, when they had their first real shoot. She’d done fine with the prelim shoot, maybe because there was nothing really riding on it, but when it came to doing hands she completely froze. 

“Um, Charlie? We’ve started. So you should. Do something.”

She held her hands completely still, her fingers balled into fists. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, dropping the camera to look at her. Her eyes were wide, no glasses on that day. 

“I don’t know what to do. What if I’m terrible? What if your teacher hates my pictures? What if you fail the class because of me? What if—”

“Charlie. Breathe.” She took a deep breath that didn’t seem all that calming, her eyes still bulging. “I’m the photographer. At the end of the day the responsibility rests on me, not on you. But I need you to work with me.”

“Okay. Sure. I can do that. I got this.”

And she did do better, after that. Castiel still had to help her quite a bit, but mostly because she kept casting weird shadows on herself. 

“So are you coming to Gordon’s tomorrow?” she asked after a while, winding her fingers together and shifting her hands to show her palms. Castiel hesitated, and apparently that was enough of an answer for her. “You didn’t know about it, did you?”

“No,” Castiel sighed, snapping a few shots. He wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t like he was really a part of that group anyway. 

“Guess I assumed. Since you and Dean are a thing and all. Are you a thing? I never really know with him. I kind of know. He’s pretty transparent. If you’re paying attention.”

Castiel’s lips twitched, because yeah, he wished Dean was transparent to him. 

“I’m not sure. It felt like maybe, but it also felt like maybe not. He’s…confusing to me. I don’t know what to think of the things he says and does.”

“I’ll tell you one thing about Dean Winchester,” she started, shifting her hands again. Her palms were together this time, her fingers spread out. “His actions speak louder than his words. Like, don’t even listen to his words. His words mean nothing. Boy shouldn't even open his mouth. Not that he opens it much anyway. But. He doesn't think about the things he does. He thinks about the things he says.”

Castiel couldn’t decide if that was comforting or not. Because his actions certainly were saying that he didn’t want to see Castiel. 

“What’s Gordon’s deal anyway?” Castiel asked, trying to shift the subject off of himself. And he had a pretty good idea that Charlie would give him an accurate picture. 

“Besides the homophobia? He’s an ass. And I’m definitely not his favorite. Maybe because I flaunt my lady-lovin’.”

“Why is Dean even friends with him?”

“They’ve known each other for a long time. And Dean was tragically in the closet for a long time. Gordon was…not the most supportive when he came out. Benny and Victor, they’re just ignorant. They don’t understand, they think he needs to pick a side. And to them, he’s straight. But I think they try.”

“And Gordon?”

“Gordon doesn’t. I think his goal is to chase Dean back into the closet. You seem to be in his way.” 

Castiel hummed, snapping a few more shots. 

“Maybe that’s why Dean didn't say anything about the party,” Charlie tried, her voice sounding hopeful. “I don’t think Gordon would try anything again, but maybe.”

“Do you know what happened?” Castiel asked, curious since Dean obviously had no intention of telling him. "After...?" he let his voice trail off, hoping Charlie knew what he meant. 

“No idea. Whatever happened is strictly between the two of them. Gordon has been pretty skittish around Dean though, so whatever _did_ happen must have been pretty serious. Don’t worry though, Dean’s a good guy. I think he can just be scary when he wants to be.”

Castiel hummed again, sort of comforted by her words. He didn’t envy Gordon, but it was good to know that Dean probably hadn’t done anything stupid in his name. 

“When did you talk to him last?” Charlie asked casually, holding her arms out straight like she was looking at her nails. Castiel didn’t really fall for her casual tone, but it _was_ kind of nice talking to somebody who seemed to know Dean pretty well. 

“I texted him on Tuesday, to say thanks, but he never answered. In person, I guess Sunday? In the morning. He stayed over on Friday, I stayed over on Saturday. Sam told me to bring him lunch at work, so I did, and then…nothing.”

“Woah. That’s…unusual.”

Castiel lowered the camera slowly, meeting Charlie’s gaze. 

“Good unusual or bad unusual?” 

“I think, good?” she made a face, shrugging her shoulders. “Don’t quote me. But, Sam doesn't usually get involved. I mean everybody knows Sam, if they know Dean, but Sam never gets his hands dirty. And his hands are _definitely_ dirty right now.”

Castiel frowned, not really sure how to respond to that. “I don’t know. I just thought I would give him some time. It’s not like we’re that serious. He probably just wanted some space.”

“So you do speak Dean,” Charlie grinned. “You might survive yet.”

“Um. Thanks?” Castiel raised the camera again, waiting for Charlie to adjust her hands. One hand laying in her lap, the other raised with her fingers split down the middle. Kind of weird, but it looked good nonetheless. The camera clicked and Charlie started laughing again, at what Castiel had no idea. 

“You’re great, Castiel. Just great.”

He didn’t respond, snapping a few more pictures, but there was a definite smile on his face. 

***

Castiel went to bed early on Friday night. Anna was out with some of her friends, and she’d invited Castiel to come along but he couldn’t really summon up the energy for it. So he curled up with some decaf coffee, watched a few minutes of _Meerkat Manor_ on Animal Planet, and promptly passed out on the couch. 

Not entirely surprising, to be honest. 

What _was_ surprising was when he woke up right around 4am. Even more surprising was the slow, almost shy knocking on the door. Castiel blinked blearily, trying to clear his vision and feeling around for his glasses on the floor. That took him sort of longer than it should have, but they must’ve fallen off while he was sleeping. When he finally shoved them on his face he shuffled over to the door, dragging it open slowly. 

“Dean?”

“Hiya, Cas.”

The first thing he registered was that Dean was hammered. He smelled sticky like beer, and sweat, and kind of smokey like a trashy bar. His eyes were bloodshot and only half open, and he was sort of…swaying. 

The second thing he registered was that Dean _still_ looked _good_. He had on grayish colored jeans and heavy black boots, with a maroon button up that had the top three or four buttons undone. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were pink, and he had a touch more scruff than the last time Castiel had seen him. 

“Can I come in?”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows but nodded, stepping out of the way and shutting the door once Dean was in. 

“What were you doing out?”

“Was jus’ headin’ home,” Dean grinned, wandering straight into Castiel’s room and flopping down onto the bed. Castiel followed him hesitantly, trying to figure out what he was up to. 

“You realize it’s almost 4 in the morning, right?”

“Headin’ home kinda late,” Dean laughed, tossing an arm over his face and laying down on his back. 

“You also realize this isn’t your home?”

“M' not stupid, Cas. Jus’ missed you.”

_Oh. What?_

“Um.”

Dean sat up abruptly, propping himself up on his elbows and hitting Castiel with the poutiest puppy eyes that he had ever seen in his _life._

“Can we sleep, or’re you mad at me?”

“So now you want me around? Because you’re drunk and lonely?” Castiel snapped, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. He didn’t mean to sound so angry, since he didn’t really have any reason to be, but it was late—or early, whatever—and he was tired and a little frustrated. 

“You’re mad,” Dean said flatly. 

“No,” Castiel sighed. “I’m not. I’m tired. And why you decided to come here is just beyond me.”

Dean sat up completely planting his feet on the floor and staring at Castiel with a confused expression on his face. “What?”

“You could’ve gone anywhere. Any one of your beautiful lady friends would have graciously let you in. Why here?”

Dean stared down at his lap, looking kind of unsure of himself. Castiel just waited. 

“M' not a cheater,” he mumbled finally, running a hand through his hair. 

“Sorry?” Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. 

_A cheater? That would mean…What?_

“I’m a lotta things, but m' not a cheater.”

“Oh.”

Dean looked up at him, with those damn, drunk puppy eyes again. 

“I’m sorry for being a gigantic douche. ‘m real sorry.” 

“Okay.”

They stared at each other for a couple more moments before Dean’s face split into a grin. “You still mad at me?”

He reached out a hand and tried to grab Castiel’s hand, failing miserably. Castiel rolled his eyes and stepped forward anyway, standing in between Dean’s knees and letting him wrap his arms around his legs and rest his forehead on Castiel’s stomach. Dean sighed happily as Castiel carded his fingers through his hair, carefully pushing the strands further out of place. He couldn’t help but smile down at his handiwork, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. 

“Come to bed?” 

“Technically, we’re already in bed.”

“Dick,” Dean laughed, releasing Castiel and crawling backwards across the comforter. 

“Did you want to sleep fully clothed?” Castiel laughed, gesturing at Dean’s shoes that were still on his feet. Dean stared down at his feet like he was just noticing them, and couldn’t believe that they’d appeared with shoes still on them. 

“Friggin’ boots,” he grumbled as he struggled to pull them off. “You could help a kid out,” he said to Castiel, grinning at him again. 

“I much prefer to watch you struggle,” Castiel replied, tilting his head and feeling his lips twitch. Dean said something else under his breath, but Castiel didn’t care enough to catch it. When he finally got down to his boxers—which, to be fair, took a _very_ long time—he gestured at Castiel, who was still dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. 

“Now you.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed, pulling his own t-shirt and sweats off and crawling into bed. He turned off the lights as he went, placing his glasses on the bedside table and curling into Dean’s chest. Dean hummed happily, running a hand through Castiel’s hair and kissing his forehead. 

“How’s your week,” he breathed, his voice even more slurred as he fell asleep. 

“Maybe we’ll talk about it later.”

Dean seemed to agree with that, sinking into the bed and breathing his whisky breath into Castiel’s hair. 

“You stink.”

“Thanks,” he huffed, laughing quietly. “Smells like teen spirit.”

“Um?” Castiel blinked at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to make out his face but still looking. 

“Nothin’,” Dean laughed again, sounding like he was just this side of awake. 

“You’re weird sometimes.”

“Dude. _You’re_ weird always.”

Another couple of minutes of quiet, and Castiel wasn’t even sure Dean was awake anymore but he tried. “We’re going to talk about this in the morning,” he said quietly, barely audible against the skin of Dean’s freckled chest. 

There were a couple of beats of silence before he responded, but it was definitely there. 

“Yeah. Okay.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shh. We’ll go in behind them. I need you for a minute.”
> 
> “For what, exactly?” 
> 
> “It’s top secret,” Dean grinned flirtatiously. “You’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opinions expressed here do not represent those of the author. The author realizes that not all USC students are rich, pretentious douchebags, and that Lane Kiffin's wife is probably a lovely woman. Please forgive the author for any generalizations made herein for the sake of storytelling.

“Think I’m gonna friggin’ puke. Yeah. Definitely gonna puke.”

Castiel grumbled sleepily and pulled a pillow over his head, ignoring Dean as he rolled towards him in bed.  


“Cas. You up?” Dean faux whispered. “Cas. Caaaaaaas.”

“Go away.”

Dean chuckled and flung an arm over his waist, moving the pillow and nuzzling the back of his neck. 

“Pay attention to me.”

“No.”

“What about now?” he said softly, tracing kisses up the side of Castiel’s neck. 

“Do whatever you’d like. I’m going back to sleep,” Castiel sighed in response, tilting his chin just a tiny bit. 

“Somnophilia?” Dean grinned against his neck. “Kinky, dude.”

_“You_ would be the somnophiliac, Dean, not me.”

Dean laughed again and curled closer around his back, tightening his arm around Castiel’s waist. “Let’s get up, man. It’s game day.”

“Game day?” Castiel sighed, rolling over to face him. “And how are you not death on a stick right now?”

“Not my first rodeo. I get a beer in me and I’ll be good to go. What?” he laughed at Castiel’s raised eyebrow, running a hand down his back. “Best cure for a hangover is another drink.”

“I don’t think that’s scientifically accurate.”

“Probably not. But it’s _the_ game. Gotta go.”

“You say that like I should know what you’re talking about.” Castiel let his eyes fall closed again, laying his cheek on Dean’s chest and sighing heavily. 

“That’s ‘cause you _should_. You’re the one who actually goes here.”

“Football?” Castiel guessed, not sure if any other sports were even on right now. 

“God you’re hopeless,” Dean laughed, pushing his hair back off his forehead and kissing the top of his head. “Yeah, football. Against that _other_ school.”

“Ah, yes. The rivalry.”

The archaic, who knows how old rivalry between UCLA and USC. Because there was no way two Pac-12 schools could share the greater Los Angeles area _without_ absolutely hating each other. Castiel didn’t care much for it, but everybody else seemed to take it pretty seriously. 

“Get your ass up then,” he said as he climbed out of bed. “It’s already eleven and the game’s on at five.”

“Dean,” Castiel groaned. “I do not have an entire day to devote to a football game.”

“Come on, dude. Don’t be such a nerd for a day.” He flashed Castiel a grin as he pulled on his jeans, with probably more than a little bit of gratuitous ass-shaking. 

“Would you have me any other way?” Castiel sighed, going for nonchalant but kind of freezing up after the words were out of his mouth. His brain chose that moment to kindly remind him that he and Dean needed to have a pretty huge conversation, which, perfect. Great timing. 

“Nope,” Dean grinned, brushing past Castiel’s awkwardness. He strolled over to the bed as he pulled his shirt on, dragging Castiel to his feet by his hands. “But I wanna go have some fun with you, watch some football, the works. Humor me.”

“You know you are dooming me to an entire day in the darkroom tomorrow, right?” Castiel sighed again. Dean just grinned, obviously knowing that he’d won this round. “And you owe me a conversation.”

Dean’s smile faltered a little bit, but it didn’t disappear. 

_Definitely an improvement. Not great, but better._

“I know, Cas. But can I owe you when my blood isn’t pumping Bruin blue filled with SC hate?”

“Sure,” Castiel let himself smile, despite Dean’s slight dismissal. They _were_ going to talk, but it didn’t have to be right now. 

“Now put some friggin’ clothes on.”

It turned out, unsurprisingly, that Castiel didn’t own anything worthy of wearing to a game. Luckily Dean owned _plenty_ , and that was how Castiel ended up in one such t-shirt at Dean’s apartment, with Dean and Sam waiting for one of Sam’s friends to pick them up in a huge truck. It was way too big on him, but the dopey grin Dean got on his face when Cas put it on made it feel much more worth it. 

Castiel had never been to the Rose Bowl before, and it turned out he was quite ill-prepared for the splendor of it all. 

The stadium was situated sort of in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by huge expanses of parking lot and grass fields. Huge, swooping cursive letters spelled out the name of the stadium above the main entrance, with a gigantic rose floating above it. He only just barely saw the entrance as they drove around the building towards their designated tailgating lot, but it really was quite something. 

How they even _had_ a tailgating space was beyond Castiel, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and decided not to ask. And if he’d thought they were being ridiculous by getting to the stadium five hours before game time, he had a-whole-nother batch of surprises coming. 

The expansive field next to the stadium was not only occupied, but it was _packed._ Grills set up, beer coolers being filled, college students milling around in varying combinations of blue, white, and smatterings of gold. 

“You gonna stare all day or you gonna help set up?” Dean laughed a few minutes after they’d climbed out of the car, shoving Castiel’s shoulder lightly. 

“I thought I’d let you do the heavy lifting,” he said idly, raising the small digital camera that was hanging around his wrist and snapping a quick picture of Dean staring at him. His manual would’ve been better, but there was no way he was going to let that thing _near_ this many drunk people. 

“Dick,” Dean grinned, tossing an arm over Castiel’s shoulders. 

Instead of helping Castiel decided it would be better to situate himself in the bed of the truck and watch, since he didn’t have the faintest idea about setting up a propane grill anyway. Jo arrived a few minutes later, with Anna in tow, which surprised the hell out of Castiel. 

“What the heck! What are you doing here?” she laughed, climbing into the truck and sitting down next to him. _Everything okay?_ she mouthed at him, glancing quickly over at Dean. Jo grabbed three beers before joining them and handing one to them both. 

“Um, tailgating before the game?” he answered, smiling knowingly and giving her a tiny nod. 

“Oh, stop it,” Anna laughed. “I’ve tried to make you come so many times and you _never_ listen to me. What does Dean have that I don’t have?”

Jo and Castiel exchanged a look and started laughing, but the whole thing got forgotten as music started up and the rest of the group started cracking open beers and other drinks. Castiel took a drink from his own bottle, surveying the area around him. Dean was a few feet away with Benny and Victor, Charlie was off obviously fawning over a soft-looking brunette. Gordon didn't seem to be around, which was a nice relief. A couple more people climbed into the back of the truck, including Sam and the friend who had driven them there, a guy named Brady. He was with a girl too, who Castiel had to assume was Jess based on how she was leaning into him. She was sort of _angelic_ , if that wasn’t weird to say, her frame tall and thin, perfect blonde ringlets bouncing as she laughed. 

Castiel sat back and stayed mostly silent, snapping pictures as everybody laughed and drank and posed around him. That is, right up until Charlie stole his camera for her own purposes. 

“ _I’m_ the model so you obviously need more pictures of me. It’s a scientific fact,” she laughed as she held the camera out to take a picture of herself. “I won’t lose it I swear. You can have it back later.” 

And with that she bounced away, shoving the camera in different people’s faces and laughing about it. 

The day sort of melted away as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, time passing by slowly in a mix of empty beer bottles, loud music and even louder laughter. Castiel could feel the heat of the sun on his skin, warming his cheeks and sticking his shirt to his back. It was hot, but the drinks were cold and he loved it. As more and more groups of USC fans appeared the field got rowdier and rowdier, devolving into team cheers and absolutely ridiculous insults that were hurled back and forth like ammo. 

Castiel’s particular favorite was when one particularly snobby-looking guy strolled by with a girl in the tiniest denim shorts Castiel had ever seen and a group of friends in tow. 

“Hey UCLA, remind me, how many national championships do you guys have?” he’d yelled out with a nasty smirk. 

And Castiel certainly expected Dean to be the first to respond, but Benny beat him to it. 

“I dunno brother, can you remind me how many times I’ve fucked Kiffin’s wife?”

The guy tried to yell something back, but the “Fuck SC” chant that started up and spread like wildfire drowned him out. Castiel was quietly chanting along when he caught Dean’s eye, watching as a smile spread across his face. 

_Shit shit shit._

His heart started racing immediately, and he kind of wanted to run over to where Dean was standing, but he was kind of enjoying this. Just sort of, existing in each other’s space, aware of each other but not in direct contact. It didn’t matter that they weren’t glued together or that Dean’s arm was tossed casually over Lisa’s shoulders. Because for the first time it sort of felt like Dean was _his_. 

So he stuck his tongue out at him and turned away, focusing his attention back on Jo, who was standing in the bed of the truck with her back resting against the cab next to him. 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I swear you two and your eye-fucking,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “So four downs, gotta get ten yards. Get in the endzone, that’s a touchdown. Don’t score a touchdown or a fieldgoal, you gotta punt. Score some points, start over with a kick-off to the other team. Wash, rinse, repeat.”

“I know the _basic rules_ ,” Castiel sighed, finishing his beer and glancing down at the empty bottle. “It’s _this_ game I don’t get. And why we’re supposed to hate them so much.”

“Well, that other ‘school’ is a bunch of rich, pretentious douchebags,” she said, her air quotes the most dramatic Castiel had ever seen. “So we hate them on principle. Then there’s the bell.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, waiting for more explanation. 

“The Victory Bell. Those Trojan assholes stole it from us back in like, ’41 or something like that. A long ass time ago. To get it back, we both agreed that whoever won this game would take the bell as a trophy. They have it now, and we just gotta get it back.”

“Makes a lot of sense,” Castiel laughed, shaking his head. Sports fans were so weird. 

“Don’t diss it ’til you experience it,” Jo raised her beer and drank, nudging Castiel with her elbow. 

Castiel felt an arm wrap around his waist before he could respond, flailing a little bit as he lost his balance before strong hands steadied him again. 

“Hiya, Cas,” Dean said with laughter in his voice, looking up at Castiel from where he was standing on the ground. 

“Hello, Dean,” he said, his lips curving up. 

“You hungry?”

“Yes,” Castiel hummed, folding his hands over Dean’s arm. “Burger?”

“You got it.”

Castiel stopped him when he started to walk away, tugging him back. “Want to find me a drink, too?”

Dean sighed dramatically and grumbled something about neediness but he smiled when Castiel ruffled his hair as he walked away. Castiel shifted his attention back to Jo once again, who was staring at him like she’d just seen a ghost. 

“Sorry about that. What were we—are you okay?”

She gave him a puzzled look and furrowed her eyebrows, clearly deep in thought about something. 

“That was weird.”

“Weird?” Castiel tilted his head, not exactly sure what she meant by that. 

“Yeah, all the—” she paused, pursing her lips and crossing her arms. “Nevermind. So fuck SC, right?”

Castiel laughed and let whatever the weirdness was go, moving on to something about football players he had never heard of and something about draft picks. Who knows. Dean climbed into the bed of the truck a few minutes later with two burgers and a beer, sitting down at Castiel’s feet. The burger was way overcooked and bland compared to what Dean could make, but Castiel enjoyed it all the same. 

Charlie even returned his camera, which was great because then he got to annoy Dean with even more pictures. 

“Quit it with the friggin’ pictures, man,” Dean laughed, trying and failing to swat the camera away. 

“Nope,” Castiel pulled the camera out of his reach, snapping a couple of shots of Jo and Anna while they posed. 

“Better get used to it,” Anna giggled, kissing Jo’s cheek while the other girl tried to squirm away. “Photography majors. We literally never stop.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean sighed, giving up and slumping against Castiel’s legs. He acted all pouty, but Castiel could see right through it. He saw it in his sparkling green eyes, in the way Dean tried very hard not to smile up at him. 

Castiel wound their fingers together and kissed the back of Dean’s hand, taking a quick picture of their intertwined fingers. 

“Friggin’ cheesy dude,” Dean grumbled, but he draped his arm over Castiel’s thigh and, even better, never let go of his hand. 

Castiel wasn’t quite sure how much time passed, but then food was being packed up and the music was turning off and people were shuffling towards the stadium in herds. Castiel climbed out of the back of the truck and helped put a few things away, then found himself being pulled away in the opposite direction before he could even think about moving towards the stadium. 

“Dean, everyone else is going,” Castiel hissed, only trying half-heartedly to pull away. 

“Shh. We’ll go in behind them. I need you for a minute.”

“For what, exactly?” 

“It’s top secret,” Dean grinned flirtatiously. “You’ll see.”

“You’re a handsy drunk,” Castiel laughed as Dean dragged him bodily around the car, pressing him up against the warm metal of the driver’s side door and kissing him quiet. 

“Not drunk. And you’re hot,” Dean said with a cocky grin, tightening his grip on Castiel’s waist and kissing the laugh out of his mouth. “Tell me another one.”

“Mmm,” Castiel hummed, dragging his fingers through Dean’s hair. “You’re sweaty,” he said, noting the far-too-appealing sheen on Dean’s skin. 

“You are too. Kinda like it,” he winked, biting his own bottom lip. 

“Shut up,” Castiel laughed, kissing him and pulling his lip out from between his teeth. He used his hands on Dean’s hips to pull him closer and lick into his mouth, loving how Dean practically folded into him. “I wish we weren’t in public right now,” he mumbled against Dean’s mouth, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Evil siren,” Dean grumbled, that dopey grin back on his face. 

“Was this really your top secret plan?”

“Mostly. Didn’t kiss you nearly enough today.”

Castiel blinked at him, distracted by the timbre of his voice and the scattered freckles across the bridge of his nose. There were more of them today, probably because of the sun. It looked good on him. And God it was so _easy_ to get distracted by him, so _easy_ to just get lost in Dean Winchester. 

_Shit shit shit. One more thing to remind you how deep you really are._

“You’re the one who made us get out of bed this morning,” Castiel reminded him with a smug look, shoving all those other thoughts away. 

“Regret. So much regret. Why’d I do that?”

“No idea.”

“Tomorrow,” Dean nodded, resting their foreheads together. “Tomorrow we aren’t getting out of bed.”

“A little presumptuous of you to assume we’ll be spending the night together,” Castiel said, fighting his smile. “And besides, I have things to get done. Things _you_ didn’t let me get done today.”

“In hindsight, not sure I thought this through,” Dean laughed, bringing his hand up to cup Castiel’s jaw and pull him in for a lingering kiss. It was wonderful and perfect and warm and they were both sweaty and sticky but neither of them cared and Castiel was soaking in the bone-deep contentment when _someone_ interrupted them. 

_“Ugh, what a shame. They’re way too hot to be gay.”_

Castiel broke the kiss first, but it was obvious they’d both heard it. Dean’s eyes flitted open and met Castiel’s, and there was so much anger there already. But he offered Castiel a small smile and ran his thumb across his cheek before turning to speak. 

“Come again?”

One of the two girls that were standing a few feet away spoke, flipping her long brown hair. “Bet you wouldn’t be a fag if you went to SC,” she smiled, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. "Come on, baby, we can show you a real party." Castiel just rolled his eyes. 

Still, Dean’s next words felt a little too good. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Trojan ain’t my brand. But hey, good luck with those daddy issues. Just remember, he loves you so much he sold his _soul_ to send you to the ghetto.” He punctuated the sentence by sliding a protective arm around Castiel’s shoulders, tossing her a wink as they walked away. 

“Dean…”

“Let’s go watch some football, man. Yeah?”

Castiel blinked up at him taking in the careful smile on his face.  


“Yes. Sure.”

The actual game was one big huge blur. Lots of yelling, some more beer, a lot of sweaty people bumping into him. They were on the sunny side of the stadium, too, so by the time the sun finally set below the press boxes and gave them some much needed shade, Castiel felt like a charred piece of meat. Dean tried to explain what was going on as things happened, as did Jo who was standing in front of him, but he only half-heartedly listened. He didn’t really care, anyway. It was pretty obvious when he was supposed to cheer, and when to boo. He just sort of mimicked Dean as the game went along, which got him more than a few approving grins. 

By the time they got back to Sam and Dean’s apartment it was well past 10pm and Castiel was way too tired to ask to get dropped off at home, so he shuffled inside with the brothers and decided that a night in Dean’s bed wouldn’t be bad at all. 

“Can I shower?” he mumbled, already dragging his sweaty t-shirt off over his head. 

“‘Course. Want company?” Dean winked, pulling his own shoes off. 

Castiel just scoffed and ignored him, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door. 

The water felt glorious against his skin, rinsing off the muck and sweat from the long day. He felt achey and sore and completely exhausted, not to mention a little bit sunburned, but it felt kind of nice. His body felt used and worn, in a good way. He even spent an extra minute or two to rub conditioner into his scalp. 

Dean took the shower after him, but he didn’t wait to climb into bed and curl up under the sheets. He made sure to stay awake, but it sure wasn’t easy. And yeah, maybe he drifted a little bit. But he woke back up when the bed shifted under Dean’s weight, curling towards his warmth. 

“Hey, angel,” he sighed heavily, burying his face in Castiel’s chest. 

Castiel just hummed and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, pushing it around in different directions. 

“Don’t mess up my hair.”

“Too late.”

Dean made a grumpy noise but didn’t move away, so Castiel continued his stroking. 

“Want to talk?” he said quietly, a little afraid that Dean would spook. 

“Not really. But you want to. So. Yeah.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Don’t start. I think I’ve been patient.”

“Yeah. You have.” Dean pulled back and stared up at him, leveling their gazes. “I wasn’t supposed to like you, dude. Not this much.”

“Me neither,” Castiel said quietly, and that seemed to calm some of the fear in Dean’s eyes. 

“I dunno, really, what to do about that. Never had to deal with it. But I promised Sammy I wouldn’t fuck it up _quite_ yet. So.”

Castiel’s lips twitched. 

_Of course. Put it on Sam. Of course._

“So?” Castiel prompted, raising his eyebrows. 

“You gonna make me say it all out loud?” Dean whined. Castiel just waited. “Fine,” Dean grunted. “Will you just be my damn boyfriend already? ‘Cause I’m really friggin’ tired of you correcting people.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him before he even really knew what he was doing, parting his lips and pulling Dean closer. Dean let himself be dragged, opening up and letting Castiel control this one. And it felt wonderful, having Dean warm and pliant like this, as his hands stroked slowly down Castiel’s back. 

"You know that's not the end of the conversation?"

"I know."

“But I'm tired,” Castiel breathed, deflating a little bit. "Good day."

“Yeah?” Dean huffed, with a small smile. 

“Yeah.” They stared at each other for a couple of moments, their gazes warm and unwavering. “Let’s sleep.”

“Good idea, angel,” Dean yawned, kissing him one more time. “That a yes, then?”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel said quietly, his eyes slipping closed. “That’s a yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like. Sorry if you go to USC ahahaha. To be fair, I'm a Duck so I actually don't like UCLA or USC. I obviously don't go there, but I tried to make this as accurate as I could. The Rose Bowl (the stadium where UCLA plays football) is a marvelous thing, if you care [what it actually looks like.](http://apesontape.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/rose-bowl.jpg) And yes, sitting on the sunny side of the stadium on a hot day does feel like sitting inside a literal, actual oven. Lane Kiffin is their old head coach, and his wife is like famously beautiful. What else. Um. UCLA kids (maybe SC ones too, i dunno) are fans of referring to SC as the _other_ school, so that's real. 
> 
> And like, a teensy bit of actual plot development. Meep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You tell me what the hell happened last week.”
> 
> Dean just stared at him for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. 
> 
> “Probably deserve that.”
> 
> “Probably.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated this in three days? What? What am I doing? Who am I? 
> 
> But I promised Meleth some plot, and I'm pretty sure I managed that. I hope you like it. Try not to be too angry with Dean, he's trying his best and he doesn't want you to hate him.

“Hold on hold on,” Anna crawled forward, adjusting a few stray pieces of hair. “Okay go. Charlie sit up straight.”

Charlie made a face at her over her shoulder, rolling her shoulders back. Castiel was already regretting having let Anna tag along. 

“My shoot, Anna. Not yours. Charlie, just relax. Do what’s natural.”

Castiel ignored Anna’s glare and put the camera up to his eye, snapping a few shots when Charlie let her frame relax. 

“Shift,” he murmured, swatting Anna away when she tried to fix her hair again. 

“Ow! Jerk. Her hair is all caught,” she said, gesturing at the loop of hair caught on Charlie’s shoulder. 

“I know. I like it. Quit messing with my shot or you’re not allowed in here anymore.”

Anna grumbled and crossed her arms, much to Charlie’s amusement. “You two bicker like siblings. Or maybe like siblings. I don’t know exactly how siblings bicker since I don’t _personally_ have any but. Probably.”

“Charlie. Focus.” Castiel reached out a hand a touched her shoulder, adjusting its position just slightly to get some better light. 

“I bet you weren’t this strict with Dean,” she sing-songed, swaying her head and wiggling her shoulders. 

“He wasn’t,” Anna laughed, poking Castiel’s side. 

“You weren’t even there,” he sighed, dropping his camera and rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. “How would you even know?”

“Because I know _you.”_

Castiel rolled his eyes at her sweet smile, snapping at Charlie to hold still. 

_Anna is never allowed back. Ever._

“Hey hey don’t take it out on me. I’m just the poor innocent bystander here.”

“Yeah, right. Shift.”

“How’s that going, anyway?” Charlie giggled, dropping one shoulder and leaning towards her left. “What is it like to have the ever elusive Dean Winchester as your boyfriend? How’s it feel to be the one who nailed him down? The likes of which our very own Lisa Braeden and Cassie Robinson let slip through their dainty fingers?”

Anna tipped over in a fit of laughter, cackling away at Castiel’s expense. Charlie held an impressively stoic position, but then Castiel couldn’t see her face to see how well she was _really_ holding up.  


“I really don’t know,” Castiel sighed. “It’s only been two days. And I didn't even see him most of yesterday or today.” 

“Two days apart?!” Charlie gasped, sending Anna into another fit of giggles. “Incredible. What was that like? Were you yearning for your love?”

“No,” Castiel snapped, taking the last shot on that roll of film and lowering his camera. “I’m capable of being an independent human, thank you very much.”

He chose not to mention the fact that he’d barely slept the night before. 

_Everybody has bad nights. That’s…not important. And completely unrelated. Completely._

“Okay, okay sorry,” Charlie finally relented, flopping down on her back. “I’ll stop bugging you. I  just think you guys are really cute and I’m happy for Dean.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, waiting for more. 

“No way,” Charlie laughed. “That’s all I’m saying. He’s like my big brother, I just want good things for him. You’re good things, Castiel.”

The sincerity burrowed right underneath his skin, found a place in the center of his chest and stayed there. And thank god for Anna, or else Castiel probably would’ve kept staring. 

“Hey Charlie, you like Planet Earth?”

“Heck yes!” she squealed, scrambling up and chasing Anna into his living room. Castiel took a few moments to pack up his film and put away his lens and camera before joining them. 

They spent the next couple of hours hunkered down on his couch, watching _Ocean Deep_ and snacking on pizza. Charlie was just convincing them to switch over to _Game of Thrones_ when there was a knock on the door. The three of them all exchanged looks before Charlie bolted off the couch, at the door before Castiel could even think about standing up. 

She swung open the door to reveal Dean’s frame, clothed in dark jeans, a canvas jacket, and a dark grey t-shirt. 

“Well well, if it isn’t my favorite ginge,” he grinned. Castiel’s stomach fluttered. 

_Control yourself. Jesus._

“Excuse you!” Anna called out, holding up her own red hair. Dean peaked inside the door, apparently just noticing Anna and Castiel stretched out on the couch. 

“One of my favorite ginge’s,” he corrected, hitting Castiel with a flirty grin. “Thanks for answering your phone, dude.”

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Castiel huffed defensively, trying to think about where his phone even was. _His room? Maybe. Backpack?_

“I know, I texted you to tell you,” Dean laughed, following Charlie into the apartment. 

“I was just convincing these stiffs to watch a little GoT, since they’ve never _seen it,”_ Charlie smiled triumphantly, resuming her position in the center of the couch. 

“Not surprised. Cas hasn't even see all the _Star Wars_ ,” Dean sighed dramatically, winking at Castiel and taking the spot on the floor by his feet. 

“What?! Are you kidding me?” she screeched. “Anna. Tell me you’ve seen them. Please. For my sanity. Please.”

“I have,” Anna laughed, flipping her hair. “I’m not nearly as bad as he is.”

“In my defense, it’s really Dean’s fault I haven’t seen them. He said he’d show me them all, but…”

“The truth comes out!” Charlie pointed at Dean accusingly, glaring epically. “I am truly heartbroken. My own brother in arms, failing in his duties. How could he?”

Dean glared up at Castiel, just getting a hair ruffle and a barely there crinkle of his eyes in return. “Workin’ on it, dude. Put on the friggin’ show.”

Charlie worked some magic on Castiel’s laptop and somehow got _Game of Thrones_ on the TV, which was some kind of miracle. Dean stayed sitting on the floor, his head resting in Castiel’s lap while he carded his fingers through Dean’s hair. He was fairly certain that Dean’s eyes weren’t even open, but he and Charlie continued to answer his and Anna’s questions throughout. 

And there were a lot. The show was far from straightforward, but Charlie was so excited about it that Castiel couldn’t help but feel excited by association. 

Unfortunately, as good as a marathon sounded, they only made it through about an episode and a half before Anna was nodding off and Castiel was seriously thinking about following her lead. 

“You guys,” Charlie whined, pausing it and staring around at them. “You have to pay attention, okay? There are nuances and you’ll miss the whole point of the show if you don’t _pay attention_ so _come on.”_

“Maybe we should pick this up another time,” Dean chuckled, barely cracking open one eye. 

“Good plan,” Anna nodded, slumping down on Castiel’s shoulder. 

It took a few minutes to convince Charlie to agree, and they only just managed with the promise that they would definitely 100% continue on another day. And with that Anna and Charlie disappeared, and Castiel found himself alone with Dean once again. 

“You alive down there?” Castiel said softly when Dean made no moves to get up. He just grunted in response, his eyes still closed. “You seem tired tonight. Long day?”

“Long day, long night,” he sighed. “Garage was crazy busy. This friggin’ Prius was causin’ all kinds of problems. Why I tell people not to buy plastic cars.”

Castiel huffed a small laugh, pressing his fingers gently against Dean’s temples and memorizing the quiet groan that escaped his throat. 

“And a long night? Did you not sleep well?”

“Didn’t sleep at all, is more like it.”

_It’s probably not what you think. It probably isn’t the same as you. Probably not. Don’t be full of yourself. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t—_

“Why is that?”

Dean’s green eyes blinked open, staring up and meeting Castiel’s gaze. “Dunno.”

“Well, I’m willing you let you stay,” Castiel cleared his throat, trying to dispel some of the tension. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You tell me what the hell happened last week.”

Dean just stared at him for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“Probably deserve that.”

“Probably.”

Dean sighed and stood up off the ground, sitting down this time at the opposite end of the couch as Castiel like he couldn’t decide if he wanted physical distance or not. 

“I kinda freaked out,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“This is shocking news,” Castiel rolled his eyes, gesturing for Dean to continue. 

“There’s not a lot more to it, man. I freaked out and I thought if I just didn’t see you and found somebody to take my mind off you that I would feel less…I dunno. Whatever I was feeling."

"Why would you want that?" Castiel asked quietly, like something was sitting on his chest. 

"That's what I used to do," he said, looking embarrassed. "I'd just...clean my palette. God, the more I say it the fucking grosser it sounds," he grumbled, tugging on his hair. "I didn't wanna be that anymore, but one fucking thing and I go right back."

"Then don't be that," Castiel said simply. "You don't have to be what your reputation says you are."

Dean's eyes flicked up, a sad smile on his face. "The amount that I don't deserve you is insane. You know that, right?"

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.  _Shit_.  _What do you even say to that? Shit shit shit._

"And I didn’t, by the way,” he sighed, and by the look on his face Castiel could gather that he must’ve physically reacted in some way. “Find somebody, that is. Didn’t even look. Just got really hammered. And apparently talked about _you_ a lot.”

Castiel couldn’t help the twitch of his lips, even if he was feeling kind of like shit. 

“You know this because?”

“‘Cause Jo friggin’ chewed me out for it,” Dean huffed, crossing his arms. 

“And why did you come here Friday night?” Castiel asked, tilting his head. “I mean you were _gone_ Dean. Really gone.”

“I know, man,” Dean sighed, dragging his hands over his face. “Honest answer? I got not friggin’ clue. I just woke up here. Don’t even remember what I said to you, but you let me stay so I figured it wasn’t anything bad.”

“That so?” 

“Yeah,” Dean laughed. “Be honest. If I was being a dick you’d kick my ass out.”

“I should’ve kicked your ass out anyway,” Castiel teased, offering him a tiny little smile. 

“Shut up. What’d I say anyway?”

“Let’s see. You said you missed me. And that you’re not a cheater.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t hold back, huh?” He tried to smile, but it didn’t make it all the way to his mouth. 

“Not much. Though I can’t say that I’m _too_ unhappy about it, since it did finally make you talk to me.”

Dean stared down at his lap and didn’t answer, apparently trying to avoid that one. Castiel was careful not to press, as much as he _really_ wanted to. He was fairly certain that Dean was going to keep talking, he just needed a second. He’d get there. 

“This is…new,” Dean heaved a heavy sigh, looking at Castiel with tired eyes. “Good stuff doesn’t happen to me, Cas. Ever. Sammy, sure. He’s got it all. I made sure of that. But me?”

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that tugged right at that stationary spot in Castiel’s chest. _You’re good things, Castiel._  

No pressure, though. 

“I fuck things up. And that’s fine. I can handle it. But somehow I managed to not fuck _this_ up yet, even though I gave it a good fucking effort, and I was in way too friggin’ deep, so. Queue freakout.”

“It’s funny,” Castiel hummed, fixing his glasses on his nose. “I think that all the time. That I’m in too deep. But maybe it’s…okay. Maybe it isn’t a bad thing. Necessarily.”

Dean seemed to consider this for a second, his eyebrows barely furrowed and his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. When he spoke he was hesitant, his voice soft and hopeful.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So you're...okay now? No more freakout?"

"Uh, half freakout?" Dean tried, shrugging his shoulders. "You scare the shit out of me, Cas. But I'm not going anywhere. Might freak out again, but not like that."

Castiel let that sink in.  _Wow_ that was a lot. A metric ton, for Dean. 

"Okay. And next time you have a freak out, maybe tell me first?”

“I think I can do that,” Dean grinned, grabbing Castiel’s hands and pulling him towards the other end of the couch. “Now c’mere.”

“What for?” Castiel said innocently, tilting his head and resisting just a little bit. 

“I want to make out with my boyfriend.”

Castiel gave in at that, letting Dean pull him up against his chest and kiss him senseless. Because _damn_ that sounded good. 

“I like that,” Castiel hummed, because why not? He was allowed this. He could say whatever he wanted, didn’t have to be careful about tempering his thoughts for Dean’s ears. 

“Like what?” 

Castiel slipped his tongue into Dean’s mouth before responding, feeling his calloused hands tighten against the nape of Castiel’s neck and the small of his back. Dean arched up against him at the same time that Castiel ground down, and the friction was so distracting he almost forgot he’d been speaking. 

“Boyfriend. You saying it.”

“Yeah?” Dean laughed, arching his neck as Castiel kissed up the exposed skin. His stubble felt weird against his lips, sort of prickly and rough, but he kind of liked it. “Got a bit of a thing there, huh?”

Castiel thought about shushing him, but kissing him quiet seemed like a much better idea. And after a second or two nothing else really mattered anymore anyway. It was only when Dean started to slide his shirt off that Castiel decided it might be a good time to relocate. 

They stumbled and fell into Castiel’s room more than anything else, both of their hands moving feverishly to rid the other of unnecessary shoes and shirts and pants and socks. Castiel climbed on top of Dean, not waisting a second in kissing his way down that freckled torso while his nails raked down his sides.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean hissed, his hips arching off the bed. Castiel just smiled against his skin and continued, his fingers slipping underneath the hem of his underwear to free Dean’s already straining erection. 

Castiel licked a stripe up the whole of Dean’s shaft before taking him into his mouth, Dean’s low groan ringing beautifully in his ears. He bobbed slowly at first, trying to relax his throat and humming when Dean’s hand slid into his hair. 

Dean still wasn’t vocal, but Castiel knew from the way he lifted his hips, the way he sighed Castiel’s name quietly, the way his breathing picked up and broke with a quiet whimper when Castiel increased the speed of his movements. He let his hand trail over Dean’s balls, cupping and squeezing gently when he got an idea. 

He’d never done it, obviously, but…well it was supposed to feel good, right? 

So he slid his hand down further, his thumb finding the patch of skin right behind his balls. Castiel pressed against the skin right as his head lowered, trying not to grin when Dean let out a long, distinct, whimpering moan. 

_Dean should definitely make that sound more often. Definitely._  

“That was loud,” Castiel murmured, pulling off with a wet pop and staring up at Dean through his eyelashes. Dean cursed under his breath, his grip on Castiel’s hair tightening. 

“Shut up,” he growled, his chest heaving. Castiel just smiled, swallowing him down again just as his thumb pressed against the skin once more. 

It took half a dozen more bobs of Castiel’s head before Dean was coming, and that was _definitely_ Castiel’s name he said that time. 

“The _fuck_ did you learn that,” Dean panted as he hauled Castiel up the bed, covering his mouth and kissing him deeply and thoroughly. Castiel just hummed, melting into his body. Dean rolled them to their sides, making movements to move down Castiel’s body and that was _not_ what he wanted to happen right now. 

“No no no,” Castiel mumbled, kissing him again. “Up here.”

Dean didn’t say anything, just kissed back and ran a thumb across Castiel’s cheek. And they kept kissing while Dean stroked him, while Castiel came closer and closer to tipping over the edge. And he knew he was being loud, and each time he moaned Dean’s name Dean would push back harder, kiss harder. 

He didn’t last long at all, but he really didn’t care. 

They laid in bed afterwards, kissing lazily and half staring at each other and half mumbling things that happened to come to mind. Random things about their day, about their families, stupid memories, stuff they had to do on Tuesday. And it felt nice, just talking about nothing. Things that mattered, things that didn't. It felt nice. 

“I think my mom hates my photography because of my dad,” Castiel said quietly, focusing more on Dean’s freckles than what was coming out of his mouth. 

“Why do you say that?”

“My dad was a writer, I think. Sort of the starving artist type. Maybe my mom used to be that way, and she resented him for making her grow up when he never really had to. I don’t know.”

Dean kissed him, because there weren’t really any words to say. 

“My mom used to cut the crusts off my PB&J. When I was little. I don’t remember a lot about her, but I remember that.”

“Do you remember what kind of jelly?”

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “Yeah, I do. Strawberry. Pissed me off cause Dad always bought grape. Think he did it on purpose.”

Castiel kissed him this time, because there still weren’t any words to say. 

They were quiet after that, for who knows how long. But laying under Castiel’s comforter in the dark seemed like the right thing to do, so that’s what they did. Their eyes adjusted, and it really wasn’t _that_ dark, anyway. Light pollution and all. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked sleepily after a while, when Castiel started tracing his finger along Dean’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing something. What are you looking at?”

“Your freckles.”

“Why?”

Castiel hesitated. Maybe this was weird. But whatever. 

“I’m counting them.”

Dean blinked. “You’re doing what now?”

“Counting your freckles. You have 62 of them on your nose.”

They stared for a couple more seconds, and Castiel really wasn’t sure what Dean was thinking. Then his face broke into a smile, small and quiet and disbelieving. 

“What am I gonna do with you, angel?”

Castiel shrugged, forgetting about the freckles and the fact that it was probably getting close to 3 or 4 in the morning in favor of Dean's lips. Did any of that _really_ matter right now? 

Answer: no. He could sleep later.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I'm feeling like I haven't written about Cas in the darkroom lately, so there'll be some of that. Okay cool.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean stopped, a flirty smile spreading across his face. “Yeah? Nothing to do at all?”
> 
> “Nothing at all,” Castiel stepped closer to him, slipping his hands into Dean’s back pockets and pressing himself up against his chest. “Sound okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *quietly drops this off at 2am with absolutely no editing and scurries off to bed*
> 
>  **Edit:** reading this again and just laughing because there is literally no plot. I'm the worst. I swear plot happens in the wedding chapters. pls forgive me.

Saturday afternoons in the darkroom really were a wonder. He left his stuff outside, going into the red-tinted room with only Charlie’s developed negatives in hand. It was quiet, and empty, and clean, everything stocked and ready for the next week. Castiel couldn’t help the tiny smile, settling his negatives at one of the enlargers on the side and slicing up a few pieces of paper. 

He was a little scattered right now, had been a little scattered for a while now. He was behind on reading for his lit course, which honestly wasn’t surprising, he was behind on making prints, he’d just barely gotten caught up on developing negatives along with his homework for Digital Photography and the essay that was due the next day. Thankfully, his course on Politics of Modern Photography relied heavily on in class discussion and didn’t give him too much trouble. 

In reality, none of his classes should be getting ahead of him like this. Maybe portraits, but that had more to do with the models than anything else. The problem, then, was Dean. 

God he was distracting. Castiel found it hard to say no, especially when Dean tempted him with home-cooked food and _Star Wars_. Which, Castiel had to admit, had grown on him sometime during the last three episodes that they had marathoned that Wednesday. It was a good thing that Dean actually did have a day job, a rather consuming one at that, or else Castiel wouldn’t get anything done. That, and they both seemed to agree on the importance of maintaining _other_ relationships outside of each other. Castiel had Anna, Dean had Sam. They both had lives. 

With this in mind Castiel was just barely able to push Dean out of his mind, settling into the familiar rhythm of making prints. Charlie turned out to be rather fun to develop, with her fair skin and fiery hair. Castiel became rather obsessed with the contrast, even finding a few light freckles across her nose and on her cheeks as he played with different filters. She was soft and regal in a way that Meg hadn’t been, an air about her that was somehow surprising for Castiel to see conveyed in film. 

The shots of her hands were beautiful, her fingers long and graceful, her nails painted blue with a couple of chips in the polish. Castiel loved those the best. 

Her head-shots were his favorite though, which was maybe surprising. He got one or two serious ones, but they did nothing to capture her. The ones where she was laughing were the real success, her eyes bright and happy. They were green too, but not quite the right shade. Hers were one color, a darker sort of forest shade. 

Dean’s were…like the sun filtering through a canopy of leaves. Like splashes of hazel across a canvas of green. They were—

_Focus. Jesus._

Castiel physically shook himself, adjusting his paper one last time and flipping on the enlarger. It was another beautiful shot of Charlie laughing, her nose scrunched up and her mouth open. At the time, Anna had been sitting behind Castiel, tugging on his hair and forcing it to poke out in all different directions. It apparently looked pretty funny, since Charlie hadn’t stopped laughing the entire time. 

When the enlarger shut off he pulled the paper out, dropping it into the developer and watching the image appear on the white paper. Her skin stayed pale, like he wanted it, and her hair had a warmth to it that kept her shade different than the others. Overall, he was pleased with it. 

Once he’d dragged it through the fixer and rinse bath he hung it up with the others, admiring the rather large collection of prints he’d managed to get done. He was pleased with them overall. They still had one more nude shoot to do, her upper back, and Castiel had a feeling it would fill in the missing spots. 

One shot of her hands looked a little dark, now that he was seeing it amongst all the others. He was considering whether or not he should redo it when a familiar figure strolled into the darkroom. 

“Heya, Cas,” Dean sighed contentedly, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist and breathing into his hair. Castiel smiled and leaned back into him, his stomach flipping and his heart fluttering as Dean squeezed him just a little bit tighter. 

“Hello, Dean. Kind of you to interrupt my work.”

“Dick,” Dean chuckled, pressing a kiss into Castiel’s hair and resting his chin against the top of his head. “Those pictures are friggin’ good, man.”

“Thank you,” Castiel hummed. “They have to be, or I won’t pass the course.”

“You’ll pass. You got my pretty face in there, bet your teacher wouldn’t even be able to resist.”

Castiel could _hear_ the cocky smirk in his voice, so he moved his elbow to poke Dean lightly in the stomach. 

“You done here? Or almost done?”

“No,” Castiel sighed. “I mean yes, I’m done making prints. But I have more stuff to do.”

“Come take a break,” Dean swayed back and forth, moving Castiel with him. “Then you can go finish your stuff.”

“Uh huh,” Castiel said sarcastically, turning in Dean’s arms and planting his hands on his chest. “Because that will definitely work out.”

“C’mon. Lisa and Vic are outside in the car, we’re gonna go find a shitty diner. I’ll drop you off after. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers and smiled hopefully, keeping his other arm wound around Castiel’s waist. 

“I can’t, Dean. _The Taming of the Shrew_ is calling my name.”

Dean groaned and dropped his head, staring up at Castiel through his eyelashes. “Fine, fine. At least let me drop you off.”

“I’m going to walk. It’s a nice night.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, making a face like he was absolutely not buying Castiel’s shit. “Sure, man. Whatever you say.” He dropped his arms and rubbed the back of his neck, stepping away towards the door. 

“You could stop by after,” Castiel said quietly, offering Dean a tiny little smile. “I don’t have anything to do tomorrow. Unless you work.”

Dean stopped, a flirty smile spreading across his face. “Yeah? Nothing to do at all?”

“Nothing at all,” Castiel stepped closer to him, slipping his hands into Dean’s back pockets and pressing himself up against his chest. “Sound okay?”

Dean grinned and kissed him, his hands on either side of Castiel’s neck and his fingers stroking the curl of hair behind his ear. It was warm and affectionate, softer and less filled-with-heat than the last couple of times. And god it felt good. 

“Sounds awesome. See you later, angel,” Dean said with a grin, brushing a thumb across his lips and disappearing out the door. 

Castiel stood, dazed, for a moment or two before he gathered himself. He cleaned up his stuff quickly, emptying the chemical bins and putting away all the unused paper. The finished prints got stacked up and slipped inside his bag, which in turn was slung over his shoulder. 

The walk home was actually quite nice. He hadn't been lying about the weather, just warm enough to keep him comfortable in his jeans and light jacket. He strolled casually through the mostly empty streets, only passing a handful of students as he went. Things got a little busier when he got closer to the edge of campus, to where students actually spent their weekends. 

He took a few minutes to answer a few messages from Anna on the way, about his plans for the night, and promised her lunch on Monday to make up for his absence. She was, apparently, going out that night with Jo and Charlie, so Castiel felt fairly certain that she wouldn’t miss him too much. He made plans to meet with Charlie on Monday, too, to finish up their last shoot. 

All in all, he was feeling marginally better about the state of his life. Less scattered, now that he had a handle on things. 

The Shakespeare reading, though, that was still looming. 

And it did, in fact, turn out to be equally as terrible as he thought it would be. He could appreciate great literature. Sure. He could appreciate Shakespeare’s genius. Sure. Could he sit and read _The Taming of the Shrew_ for more than twenty minutes without his eyes drifting and staring off into space? No. 

He was thankful, then, _so_ thankful, when the loud rumbling of a familiar engine and the stomping of heavy boots on his stairs alerted him to Dean’s arrival. 

Dean greeted him with a grin and a sugary kiss, one that tasted like apple pie. 

“How was your pie?” Castiel asked innocently, pushing lightly at Dean’s chest and wandering back over to the couch to sit down with his book. 

“Delicious,” Dean winked, producing a paper bag from behind his back. “Don’t worry, I brought you some. How goes the reading?”

“Not so well,” Castiel sighed, reaching out for the bag. “What did you get?”

“Ah ah ah,” Dean laughed, sitting on the opposite end of the couch and pulling Castiel’s feet onto his lap. “Not ’til you’re done. Can’t be getting in the way of your schoolwork.”

Castiel huffed and glared at him, sinking further down into the couch. Dean chuckled, grabbing one of Castiel’s socked feet and massaging the arch of it with his thumbs. 

“What are you doing?” Castiel said skeptically, fixing his glasses and staring down at Dean. 

“Giving you an incentive to finish.”

“Is that so?”  


“Yeah,” Dean grinned, winking at him. “So we can do more fun things.”

“Like?”

“Dunno,” Dean shrugged, using his knuckles and the heel of his palm to work the muscles in Castiel’s foot. He had to resist the urge to groan it felt so good. “Like feeding you pie with my fingers.”

“That sounds unsanitary,” Castiel said dryly, feeling a smile tugging at his lips. Dean glanced up and caught it, grinning right back. 

“You’re right. Should probably use a fork.”

Castiel hummed happily, trying to turn his focus back to the book. And somehow, it felt a whole lot easier now. 

***

The sun beam that was shining right on his face was what woke Castiel up in the morning. He squinted and blinked, feeling for his glasses while doing his best not to jostle a very asleep Dean who was still curled around him. As soon as they were on Castiel twisted around, doing his best to move as little as possible. 

And it really wasn’t his fault. With the sun shining in the window just right, the covers draped just _so…_ how was he supposed to resist?

Castiel slipped out of bed without waking Dean, smiling a tiny bit when Dean reacted by reaching for Castiel’s warmth in the spot he had just vacated. It took barely a minute to grab his camera out of his studio, along with a roll of film, and to sneak back into his bedroom. 

Dean was still asleep, so Castiel crouched down on the side of the bed so he was eye level with Dean. He took a second to adjust the lens, correcting his f-stop and shutter speed automatically and only barely glancing at his light meter. 

_God Dean was so beautiful._ Castiel couldn’t even be sorry for thinking that anymore. His face was relaxed, his mouth slack with sleep. The sun lit up his freckles like stars, dusted across his eyelashes and brushed through his hair. Castiel snapped a picture, cursing the noise his camera made but thanking every deity out there when Dean didn’t stir. 

He shifted the focus of the camera, letting Dean’s face blur and focusing his lens on Dean’s hand. It was stretched across the bed towards Castiel, his fingers tangled in the sheets. Castiel took the shot, trying not to imagine how those fingers had been wrapped around _him_ not ten minutes before. 

Dean sighed and made a noise, but still didn’t stir. 

Castiel shifted again, moving the focus back to Dean’s torso. The sheets were hanging over his hips, exposing his bare freckled shoulders and the lines of muscle across his side and back. Castiel took a few shots, trying to capture the line of sun stretched across his shoulders. 

“Angel,” Dean murmured sleepily, cracking open one eye. Castiel smiled and took a picture, appreciating how Dean kept the rest of his body still. “Two questions. One. Why are you not in bed with me right now. And two. Why are you taking pictures of me.”

“I think you answered your own question number one.”

“Two then,” Dean sighed, his eyes falling shut again. 

Castiel thought about lying. He really did. 

“You looked beautiful, Dean. I couldn’t help myself.”

Dean’s eyes opened this time, his lips parting with surprise. “Jesus, Cas.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Alright, whatever. C’mere,” Dean sighed heavily, reaching his outstretched hand up towards Castiel. He took the opportunity to take a quick picture of his fingers, getting a grumpy huff in return. 

Castiel finally relented after that, slipping underneath the covers but keeping several inches between them. Just enough so that he could raise the camera and take a quick shot of Dean, from his point of view. Just exactly what Dean looked like when Castiel woke up next to him in the morning, hair tousled and eyes still sleepy. 

He grinned when Castiel took another picture, shaking his head and burying it in the pillows. No grumpy sound this time, just childlike embarrassment. Castiel smiled, and he couldn't help but feel like his heart was going to pump out of his chest. 

_Holy shit I love him_ , he thought to himself, feeling bitter panic rise in his throat to replace the happiness in his gut. _Holy shit. Shit shit shit._

“You done now?” Dean said, his voice muffled by the pillows. 

“Um. Yes,” he stuttered, trying to get a handle on his racing heartbeat. _Shit. Shit shit shit. Shit._

Dean lifted his head, eyeing Castiel suspiciously before taking the camera out of his hands. He set it on the table next to the bed, pulling Castiel forward and resting their foreheads together. 

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Dean hummed, his eyes falling shut and his breathing evening out. Castiel almost thought he’d fallen asleep again, but his hand was still tracing circles on the small of Castiel’s back so he had to be at least semi-conscious. 

“Dean?” Castiel said quietly, still struggling with his racing heart. 

“Hmm?”

“Does it…bother you? The pictures?”

“Nah, man,” Dean chuckled softly, rubbing their noses together gently. “Just givin’ you shit.”

Castiel made a grumpy noise and nipped at Dean’s bottom lip, getting a surprised laugh in return. 

“Should give you shit more often, if that’s the response.”

Castiel kissed him quiet. 

When they finally broke apart Castiel was feeling more settled, like the words were sitting happily in the back of his mind instead of threatening to jump out of his mouth at any second. He wasn’t even sure he was ready to say them out loud, and he was fairly sure Dean wasn’t ready to hear them. It was…way too soon. 

But then…maybe it wasn’t. The end of the term was coming up, and that meant the presentation of his final project and holidays and—

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Do you remember about my brother’s wedding?”

“‘Course,” he sighed, pulling Castiel closer. “When is it?”

“This Sunday.”

Dean cracked open an eye to look at him, amusement on his face. “Well, jeeze, dude, coulda given me a little warning.”

“Sorry. Are you still…?”

“Going as your date? Hell yeah.”

Castiel felt his lips twitch up. “Okay. We’ll leave on Friday. Gabriel wants me there for the rehearsal dinner on Saturday.”

“Got it.”

Dean pulled him forward by the back of his neck, covering his mouth with warm, slow kisses. It didn’t take long for them to deepen, for Dean to shift so that Castiel was splayed out beneath his rolling hips. The kisses were still slow and heavy, each one like a brand on his skin. Castiel groaned against him, his fingers pulling harshly on the hairs at the back of Dean’s neck. 

_“Cas,”_ Dean sighed like a prayer, breathing heavily against Castiel’s mouth. They stared at each other, neither of them wanting to break eye contact for fear of breaking the atmosphere around them. 

Castiel’s body was screaming, but his mouth didn’t want to listen. His mouth was too busy trying to force him to breathe, thankfully. Dean looked dazed, but not far away by any means. They were both bubbling so close to the surface, each waiting for the other to do something first. 

“Let’s stay here,” Dean murmured, brushing their lips together. “All day.”

“We have to eat,” Castiel said unhelpfully, though to be fair his brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity. 

“Nope. Got everything I need,” Dean said as he nuzzled Castiel’s neck, his voice low and tempting. 

_God_ Castiel wanted to listen to him. Why did Dean have to be so goddamn irresistible? 

_“I_ would like some breakfast, and then we can spend the rest of the day in here.”

Dean groaned and dragged his mouth away from Castiel’s neck, looking down at him with a grumpy look on his face. 

“Do my charms work on you at all?” he said moodily, pushing Castiel’s hair off his forehead and tugging playfully on his earlobe. 

“Not at all. How does bacon and eggs sound?”

“Unfortunately, friggin’ delicious.”

Castiel gave him a triumphant smile, then tugged him down to kiss the frown off his face. “Don’t act so tortured.”

Castiel had to sort of drag a reluctant Dean into the kitchen and put the whisk in his hand, but eventually Dean gave him a look and a grumpy sigh and set to work. Castiel just sat on the opposite counter with his camera and watched, snapping shots of the muscles and bones moving underneath the skin of Dean’s bare back. 

“You gonna help?”

“Did you want help?”

Dean laughed, gesturing for Castiel to come over to the stove. Castiel obliged, slipping his camera strap around his neck and stepping up to the counter where Dean wanted him. Then Dean wrapped himself around Castiel’s back, pressing their bare skin together and wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders. 

“Know how to make scrambled eggs?”

“Not a clue,” Castiel hummed, overly amused by the cheesiness of all of this. “I assume you’re going to teach me?”

“Duh,” Dean said, kissing up the slope of his shoulder and the side of his neck. Castiel tilted his head to allow him better access, sighing happily. Dean pressed a wooden spoon into Castiel’s left hand, winding their fingers together. “So it’s just like this. Start on the outside, pull to the middle. All around. Got it?”

Castiel just nodded, lifting his camera to his eye with his right hand. The lighting was a little off, and the focus wasn’t quite right, but whatever. He snapped a quick picture of their intertwined hands wrapped around the spoon, catching Dean’s low, amused laugh. 

“Cheeseball.”

“Whose idea was this?” Castiel mused, leaning back into his bare chest. 

“Shut up.”

To be fair, Dean did most of the work. Castiel just sort of let Dean move him around like a puppet, which was sort of amusing overall. But the food was delicious, of course, and Dean even put up with Castiel taking a handful of pictures while he ate before confiscating the camera. 

When they were finished eating they climbed back into bed, as promised, curling into each other and only getting up to retrieve their pizza when the delivery boy arrived. 

Castiel ended up with a handful of hickeys across his hipbones, which Dean seemed to love to tease _especially_ after finding out how much Castiel liked it. Dean got one of his own, right on the side of his neck, as punishment. It was dark purple and red, and sort of angry looking, and maybe Castiel had overdone it just a touch. But whatever. Dean only complained a little bit, and Castiel was fairly sure most of it had to do with location. 

It was a good day. A really good day.

And he was completely in love with Dean Winchester. 

Fuck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wedding bells play in the distance* its comingggggg....
> 
> also, yes. I was kind of making fun of myself with the pie feeding thing, in case any of you are readers of "It's the Holiday Season." These two are so so different from my first two boys, which is just hilarious to me. So for those of you who have read both, you are totally in on my lame little private joke. If you haven't you don't care so *ahem* yes, carry on. don't mind me. 
> 
> guys its literally so late at night what am I even doing...


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello?”
> 
> _“Cas? It’s Jo. I, um, are you busy?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow these boys are just out to play nowadays. I should stop saying that you guys shouldn't expect rapid updates like this, because apparently you _can_ expect rapid updates like this. 
> 
> In other news, this update is quite literally TWICE the length of what I usually post. Not kidding. So I had two options, split it, and have one half be short, or post it as one big thing. And you know what? I love you guys a lot. So I'm posting the whole thing. It all goes together anyways, and this way you guys don't have a pesky cliffhanger to deal with. Not a bad deal, right?
> 
> You can also expect the next couple of updates to come quickly, because they've been basically written for a while now and just require some editing. I'll space them out, cause I'm mean like that, but they'll be fast. 
> 
> *rubs hands together* LET'S DO THIS.

**Dean:** _I swear Bobby gives me the stink eye every time he sees this monstrosity on my neck….._

Castiel smiled quietly to himself, typing carefully underneath his desk during class. There was only about six more minutes left, but he didn’t feel like waiting. 

**Castiel:** _I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about._

**Dean:** _HAH!_

**Dean:** _you’re hilarious._

Well, yeah. Castiel thought he was pretty funny. The shrill, high-pitched bell rang in the hallway, and all of his classmates shuffled out of the room and out into the sunshine. 

**Castiel:** _you didn’t seem to think it was so funny while I was doing it, if I remember correctly._

The next reply took a couple of minutes, and Castiel could imagine Dean standing in the garage trying to come up with some kind of response. Castiel strolled outside while he waited, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face and the blue sky above him. 

**Dean:** _shut up. quit texting me at work._

Castiel laughed. He’d definitely won that round. 

“Cas!” he heard someone yell, swiveling his head around to figure out where it had come from. “Caaaas!” 

It took him a second, but he finally spotted what appeared to be Lisa, Victor, Benny, and Charlie sitting in a little group on the lawn nearby. Castiel was tempted to just wave and keep walking, but Charlie was definitely gesturing for him to join them. 

“Hello,” Castiel said awkwardly as he approached, stuffing his hands in his pockets and deciding if he should sit down or not. 

“Hang out,” Lisa laughed, a light, feminine sound. “Unless you have somewhere to be?” 

“Um. No.”

“Cool,” Charlie said happily, tugging on his hand and pulling him down to sit between herself and Lisa. “Cas, you know Benny and Vic?”

Castiel hesitated, glancing up at Benny and Victor. He’d met them, certainly, but if they were anything like _Gordon_ , and he was pretty sure they were, then they didn’t have friendly feelings toward him. 

“Hey, brother,” Benny said tentatively, offering Castiel what looked like a genuine smile. “Nice t’see ya.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, caught completely off guard by that greeting. “Um. Yeah. Good to see you.”

Victor nodded too, like he was trying to agree with Benny but didn’t exactly have the words. Charlie and Lisa were conspicuously quiet, but Lisa was staring at them both with hard eyes that said she was fully expecting more out of them. 

“Uh,” Victor stuttered, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. “We were…dicks. That wasn’t cool, what Gordon did. I might think it’s weird as hell but—”

Charlie smacked him, giving him a glare that was way icier than Castiel had thought she’d be capable of. 

“What Vic means, I think,” Benny jumped in, “is that it ain’t our business. Dean likes you, we like you. So we good?”

Well. It wasn’t the best apology that Castiel had ever received, and he wasn’t even really sure it _was_ an apology. But it was a white flag, which was something. And they hadn’t called him Dean’s “pet nerd” yet, so that was definitely a step in the right direction. 

“And Gordon’s a huge dickwad,” Victor added on. “Dean wouldn’t touch him, but man I wanted to do it for him. Gordon said some fucked up stuff to him, but Dean can be a scary bastard when he wants to be. Shut Gordon up real quick.”

Castiel could see the truth in that. He hadn’t _personally_ been on the other side of Dean’s anger, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to be. Though he knew for a fact that Dean would never do anything, he’d seen that thinly veiled rage the day that Dean had found out what happened. _Very_ thinly veiled. 

“Well,” Castiel sighed, wanting to move past this. “I appreciate the support. And yes. We’re good.”

Benny and Victor both gave him tight smiles, and thankfully Lisa chose to break the silence. 

“Okay! Now that that’s over. Cas, Benny here is having a little soiree this weekend. You and Dean better be coming.”

“Together,” Charlie clarified. “So I can ogle the cute.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t attend,” Castiel sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re going to my brother’s wedding. In San Francisco.”

“Wait, what?!” Charlie squealed, while Benny and Victor exchanged looks and Lisa just stared at him with her mouth gaping open. 

“Um. Is that bad?”

“Not at all,” Charlie laughed, swatting Lisa’s knee. “Right, Lisa?”

“No, not at all,” she smiled, but the surprise was still apparent on her face. “Dean is just, like, _allergic_ to that kind of thing. How’d you convince him to go?”

“I didn’t?” Castiel said, feeling unsure of himself. “He offered. It didn’t seem like a big deal.”

That was a lie. It did. But Dean had told him it wasn’t a big deal, so he’d believed him. 

“Uh, okay,” Charlie said sarcastically. “Yeah, not a big deal at all.”

“What the hell,” Lisa muttered under her breath, staring at Castiel like he was some kind of alien. “I’m…wow. Okay.” 

Castiel’s phone vibrated right then, and was snatched out of his hand by Charlie before he could even see the message. 

“From Dean,” she wiggled her shoulders and her eyebrows, apparently trying to look suggestive. “ _Cas,”_ she read, laughing as she did, “ _lesson number fifty-seven. You aren’t supposed to listen when I say stop. I’m bored as hell man help me out.”_

Charlie and Lisa both made _ooh_ -ing and _aah_ -ing noises, which only made his cheeks burn. He tried to snatch his phone back, but Charlie reached her long arms back and held the phone out of his reach. 

“Charlie! Charlie. Picture,” Lisa laughed, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and grabbing his chin with her hand, planting a kiss on his cheek. Charlie snapped a picture with his phone as she did it, cackling as she typed out some sort of message. Benny and Victor were conspicuously quiet the entire time, but Castiel just tuned them out anyway. 

“You are heathen,” Castiel grumbled good-naturedly, rubbing his hand on his cheek to wipe the kiss away. “Both of you.”

“Love you too,” Lisa smiled at him, one that probably made a lot of men weak at the knees. 

“Can I have my phone back now?”

“Sure,” Charlie laughed, tossing it into his lap. “The damage is done.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and checked his messages to see what exactly Charlie had been up to. 

**Castiel:** _Sorry, Castiel is busy right now. He also no longer requires your company to SF this weekend, he’s found himself another hot date ;)_

And with that message, a hilarious picture of him and Lisa. There was a shocked look on his face that he was sure Dean would find endlessly amusing, and Lisa’s eyes were even closed as she smooched him. As he stared at the picture he got a response from Dean, one that definitely brought a smile to his lips. 

**Dean:** _message for the girls: hands off my boyfriend._

“What’d he say what’d he say?” they both giggled, leaning in close to read over his shoulder. 

“He said _hands off_ , so hah,” Castiel said triumphantly, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and standing up. 

“Don’t leave now, we’re just having fun!” Charlie laughed. 

“I have things to do!” Castiel complained, swatting Lisa’s hand away as she pulled on the straps of his backpack. “Charlie, I’ll see you later.”

“Boo, you suck,” Lisa complained, fake pouting as he walked away. 

“Love you too,” he parroted back at her, smiling and ignoring any other comments as he walked away. 

***

Monday afternoon passed during lunch with Anna, Monday night in his last photo shoot with Charlie. On Tuesday he got a new model, a guy with dark skin, buzzed hair, and thinly corded muscles. The rest of the day sort of flew by in a blur, with the prelim shoot and all of the printing he had to do in the darkroom. When Tuesday night came he collapsed into his couch and put on _Meerkat Manor,_ pulling his phone out of his pocket with a sneaky smile. 

He hadn’t seen Dean in a couple days and, well, he kind of felt like being obnoxious. 

**Castiel:** _Dean, what are you doing?_

His response was immediate, which brought a quiet smile to Castiel’s face. 

**Dean:** _cooking dinner for Sammy. what up_

**Castiel:** _did you know that meerkat families are run by the dominant female?_

**Castiel:** _and can contain up to 50 meerkats per family?_

**Dean:** _Cas._

Castiel smiled at the phone. 

**Castiel:** _yes?_

**Dean:** _are you watching meerkat manor AGAIN?_

**Castiel:** _maybe._

**Dean:** _bullshit._

Castiel ignored that, plowing on. This was too much fun to give up that easy. 

**Castiel:** _did you know that baby meerkats are blind, deaf, and hairless at birth, weighing only 25 to 36 grams?_

**Dean:** _you know, I did know that. you’re gonna have to do better_

Well, if he was _asking_ for it. 

**Castiel:** _in that case, did you know that a mother meerkat with pups will force subordinate females to nurse for her?_

**Dean:** _not good enough. try again._  

**Castiel:** _did you know that meerkats have a protective membrane over their eyes to protect them while they dig?_

**Dean:** _ew, that’s nasty_

**Castiel:** _did you know that the entire family of meerkats pitches in to take care of the young?_

**Dean:** _alright alright, I yield_

**Castiel:** _did you know that meerkats will carry their young by the scruff of their neck, like a cat?_

**Dean:** _duuuude. I get it. you’re killing me._

**Castiel:** _did you know that meerkats will eat everything from bugs to lizards to fruit, but they consider the scorpion to be a delicacy?_  

**Dean:** _Cas._  

**Castiel:** _did you know that mother meerkats will sometimes cut off the scorpion’s stinger before feeding it to her young, to protect them from poison? even though meerkats have a natural resistance?_

**Dean:** _CAS._  

**Castiel:** _did you know that meerkats quite literally go to war over territory, lining up to charge one another like tiny people?_

**Dean:** _CAAAAAAAS. STOP. PLEASE. I YIELD._  

**Castiel:** _:)_

**Dean:** _you are such a dick. I burned my chicken._

***

Castiel rolled awake on Wednesday morning before his alarm even went off, which was definitely a first. He spent a few moments basking in the sun that was streaming through his window and smiling to himself. Today felt like a good day. 

When he got out of class at 11, he decided that going to visit his boyfriend at work would make it an even better one. 

Jo wasn’t in the front room like she had been last time, and in her place was a gruff looking man with a dirty baseball hat and a substantial beard, bags under his eyes and frown lines on his forehead. 

“Yeah?” he said in a rough voice, staring at Castiel with expectant eyes. 

“Um. Hi. You must be Bobby?”

“Place is called Singer Auto, ain’t it?” 

Castiel’s lips twitched. He could almost see the pseudo-family resemblance, especially with his demeanor. 

“I just…I’m Castiel. Dean’s…friend. I stopped by to say hello, if that’s okay.”

“Can say boyfriend, son. That boy ain’t got a damn secret with me,” he huffed, leaning back away from the desk and crossing his arms. “Y’know he ain’t workin’ today, right?”

“Uh,” Castiel paused, confused. “No. I thought he was.”

“Sure as hell tried. Told that kid to get his ass home.” Bobby glanced up and down, squinting his eyes like he was thinking about something. “Surprised you ain’t seen ‘im.” 

“Me too,” Castiel admitted, fixing his glasses and feeling fidgety. “Um. Thank you, for your help.” 

Castiel wandered out the front door and started on the long walk back to his apartment, feeling unsettled. Dean had said he was working today—hadn’t he? 

**Castiel:** _it would appear that you aren’t at work_

**Dean:** _uh. no. sorry_

Dean was, as usual, overflowing with explanation. Castiel rolled his eyes and pushed a little bit. Dean had been in a good mood the night before, or most of it at least. He’d mysteriously stopped responding right around 10 o’clock, but Castiel had assumed he’d just gone to bed. 

**Castiel:** _is something wrong?_

**Dean:** _no_

Castiel sighed in frustration, tugging on his hair. This could be Dean freaking out again, but it felt more like anger than panic. Castiel couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. 

**Castiel:** _that’s obviously not true. are you going to talk to me or no?_

That was probably a touch harsher than necessary, but he hit send anyway. At least Dean kept with the trend in his response. 

**Dean:** _no. i’m not. so you can leave me alone._

Castiel ground his teeth and closed the message thread before he sent something else that he’d probably regret. Dean was being _childish,_ at best, and this whole closed walls thing was starting to get old. Fast. 

He opened his phone to call Anna as he arrived back at his apartment, getting her voice after the first ring. 

_“Hello hello!”_

“Hi,” Castiel said shortly.  

_“Uh oh. What’s wrong?”_

“Nothing. Stupid Dean Winchester. Whatever. Would you like to come eat junk food?” 

It was only 12:30 or so in the afternoon, but Castiel wanted nothing more than to burrow inside his house and mope. And Anna usually humored him. 

_“Sure, sweetie. Be there soon.”_

***

“So how was your wild night out?” Castiel said with a small smile, nudging Anna with the toe of his socked foot. 

“Hah, _wild_ ,” she laughed, shaking her head. “It was fun, actually. Charlie is just a riot, but you already knew that. She’s big on hitting the dance floor too, which was nice.”

“Jo isn’t?” Castiel mused, reaching his hand into Anna’s bag of goldfish and tossing a few into his mouth. 

“Not at _all,”_ she laughed. “But are you surprised?” 

“Not at all.” 

“She was fantastic to have around though. You know those guys that buy you drinks and then stick around like you owe them something?” Castiel raised his eyebrows and gave her a look, and she just laughed again. “Okay, well, maybe _you_ don’t.”

“Excuse you. I’m sure I would have lots of suitors if I spent any time at bars.”

“Too true,” she sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “So those guys, _very_ annoying. And Jo wasn’t putting up with them for one second. I swear the fear in their eyes was something I will never forget.”

Castiel laughed, almost wishing he’d seen her in action. That sounded like Jo, fierce and tough as ever. 

“Well, you’re welcome.”

“For?” she raised her eyebrows in a question. 

“For introducing you. I take complete credit.”

“Uh, no. Credit goes to _Dean_ for going after you in the first place. You would’ve let him slip right through your fingers.”

“Probably,” Castiel sighed, staring down at his lap and fixing his glasses. And _that_ was a weird thought, trying to imagine how he’d be if none of this had happened with Dean. If they’d just passed each other by, Dean as one of his models and nothing else. 

“So what happened with him, anyway?”

Castiel sighed. “I don’t know. It wasn’t a _fight_ or anything, he was just in a mood. For no reason. Or no reason that he was willing to share with me.”

“Huh. That seems odd.”

“Tell me about it. I just wish…I don’t know.” It felt selfish, talking like this, but he was frustrated. And maybe Anna would talk some sense into him. “He could just tell me what’s going on, or admit that something’s wrong. You know?”

Anna nodded, her mouth pulling down into a tiny frown. “Part of me thinks that maybe that’s just Dean, but another part of me thinks that’s not really fair to you. I don’t know, Castiel, I wish I had better advice.”

He wished he had better advice for himself, too. Instead he just leaned back against the couch and sighed, munching on a few more goldfish. 

“It was out of the blue, too, but I guess his last freakout was also. It felt like things were fine last night when we were talking and then…” Castiel gestured at his throat, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Something must have happened,” Anna concluded, looking as sure of herself as Castiel wanted to feel. “I’m sure.”

Right then Castiel’s phone started to vibrate on the table, a number he didn’t have. He glanced at it then exchanged looks with Anna, trying to decide if he should answer. He frowned at it while it vibrated, watching as the one call ended and another started. Whoever it was apparently wanted his attention pretty badly. So he answered, figuring he could just hang up if need be. 

“Hello?”

_“Cas? It’s Jo. I, um, are you busy?”_

Her voice sounded strained, and Castiel’s defenses automatically shot up. Something was definitely wrong. Anna gave him a look, mouthing _who is it?_ at him. He mouthed, _Jo,_ back at her before speaking. 

“Not really, no. What’s going on?”

_“I’m, uh, out at a bar. With Dean.”_

Castiel felt like 8:30pm on a Wednesday was maybe an odd time to be out drinking, but it might have been Dean’s idea given his weird mood earlier. It didn’t ease his worry much, but at least Dean was with somebody who knew him well. 

“Okay?”

_“It’s…Dean. And it’s this fucking day. And he won’t let me talk to him, and—”_

This day? Cas glanced at the screen of his phone, trying to figure out what she was talking about. It was just like any other Wednesday. November 2nd. What was so special about November 2nd?

“Did something happen? What’s wrong with today?”

There was a long pause over the line, and Castiel could hear the sounds of the bar in the background. 

_“No no no, nothing—I mean, nothing today. He fought with Sam, you know?  And then his Dad…and…I’m just worried about him. Did he…tell you?”_

“Tell me what?”

Panic was starting to rise in Castiel’s throat, and he did everything he could to choke it down. Now was not the time to panic. He didn’t even know there’d been a fight. He knew _something_ had happened, but Dean had snapped and brushed him off before he could even ask. 

_“It’s, um, his mom. The day his mom died. It’s not usually this bad, but I think with Sam…”_

Castiel’s stomach dropped. He had no idea. Here he was, feeling bad for himself while Dean had _actual_ problems to deal with, and he had absolutely no idea. But he should have known. He should have fucking known. Anna looked worried, and Castiel knew it must’ve been painted all over his face. 

_“So can you come by? Maybe talk him off the ledge?”_

“I don’t…what am I even supposed to say? I don’t have anything…I don’t know…”

_“I don’t know, Cas. But he drank a lot and he won’t listen to me and I just think…maybe he’ll listen to you.”_

Castiel’s heart broke. Of course he would go. Of course he would try. He had to. 

“I’m on my way,” he said, grabbing his backpack and keys and walking with Anna out the front door. 

***

Jo greeted him as soon as he stepped through the doors of the bar, squeezing him around the neck. It wasn’t anything special, one of the generic college bars near campus. It was relatively empty, too, which was maybe a good thing. 

“Thank you.”

He just nodded, feeling like “you’re welcome” wasn’t the proper response. 

“Good luck.”

Jo sort of gestured at the bar top, then wandered away to give them some space. Castiel spotted Dean immediately. He was hunched over, his head hanging down and his fingers in his hair. His shoulders, if Castiel wasn’t mistaken, looked like they were just barely shaking. There was a line of empty whiskey glasses in front of him, as well as a few empty beer bottles. The bartender had probably stopped serving him a while ago, but he was already pretty far gone. 

Castiel walked slowly over to the bar top, not wanting to startle him. He put a hand on his shoulder, only to have Dean flinch away and turn to snap at him before he figured out who it was. Realization dawned on his face as he made eye contact with Castiel, the anger melting out of his green eyes with every second. 

Before Castiel could even process what was happening Dean was clinging to him, his arms wound tightly around Castiel’s waist and his nose buried in the crook of his neck. But Castiel didn’t falter, he wrapped is arms around Dean’s shoulders and carded his fingers through his hair. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hiya, angel,” Dean said weakly, but Castiel could hear a faint smile in his voice. 

“Want to go home?”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. “Please.”

Castiel wound their fingers together and pulled Dean into a standing position, snagging the impala keys out of his pocket and leading him slowly outside. He nodded at Jo on the way, only for her to stare back at him in complete shock. Castiel wasn’t really sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Dean was quiet on the drive home, only complaining two or three times about Castiel’s driving which was not nearly as bad as Castiel had expected it to be. When they got back to Dean’s apartment Castiel realized Sam wasn’t home, but he didn’t have too long to dwell on it because Dean was already urging him to his room. 

It took all of one minute for Dean to lay Castiel out on his bed, dropping his stuff on the ground, stripping him of his shirt, and mouthing at his neck and chest. 

“I’m sorry. I dunno why I snapped at you. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s voice sounded like it was going to break at any second. Castiel didn’t have the faintest idea what he was supposed to do with this version of Dean, sounding so sad and miserable. 

“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel murmured, capturing his lips for a second before Dean moved to suck marks onto his neck. 

Castiel desperately clung to any rational thought, urging himself to say something. Dean needed comfort, not a hook-up. And as good as his mouth felt…

“Dean, stop. This isn’t the time.”

Dean stopped immediately, his gaze rising to meet Castiel’s. His hands roamed up and down Castiel’s side, his eyes looking surprisingly clear. 

“Please, Cas. Let me—let me take care of you.”

_Shit._

Maybe this _was_ what Dean needed. Castiel knew that Dean wasn’t one to talk things out. And if that’s what he needed, then Castiel was going to give it to him. 

Instead of responding, Castiel reached up and kissed him. Hard. There was no gentleness or softness here. Castiel pushed Dean as far as he would go, and Dean shoved right back. Castiel could feel every ounce of ripping, tearing pain in the kiss, but it wasn’t directed towards him. Never towards him. It translated to fingers that gripped just a smidge too tight, teeth that bit just a little too hard. 

Dean’s body ground down against Castiel’s, hard and demanding, and Castiel gave back everything he could. Dean pulled both of their jeans off, and then Castiel’s mind was consumed with the feeling of Dean’s teeth on his neck and collarbones, contrasted sharply by the softness of his lips. Dean was covering his body with wet, warm kisses when Castiel felt warm droplets on his skin. Tears. 

“Hey,” he said softly, trying to drag Dean up the bed. “Dean, hey, c’mere.” 

Dean barely listened, refused to look at Castiel as he allowed him to pull their mouths together. Castiel dug his fingers into Dean’s hair and kissed him with everything he had left, but it wasn’t enough. He knew it would never be enough. Hot tears fell against Dean’s stubbled cheeks, spilling out of his eyes while he shook in Castiel’s arms. Castiel had no idea what he should do, what he even could do. He felt helpless, and useless.

So he kept kissing him, gave him everything. He kissed the tears off his cheeks, tasting the salt on his tongue, feeling how Dean collapsed into him. He kissed his eyelids, his nose, his forehead, his lips. He kissed every inch of skin he could, doing his best to take away the tears. And, when Dean finally gave in to the exhaustion that was clearly spreading throughout his body, Castiel was wholly unsurprised. He just held him, letting Dean wrap himself around Castiel in whatever way he wanted. 

Castiel couldn’t process what had just happened, didn’t want to. He’d never seen Dean look so broken, never seen those bright, beautiful eyes look so sad. He wished he’d never had to see it, briefly, before taking that back. Because at the end of the day Dean had _let_ him see it, no matter how much it broke his own heart. Dean had let Castiel catch him, when he was capable of picking himself up, and that meant something. 

And just as he was falling asleep, he got a text from Jo. He glanced at it quickly, and maybe it was because he was so exhausted because there was absolutely no way he read it right. 

**Jo:** _you have so much power over him, you have no idea. take care of him. please._

***

Castiel woke up to soft fingers tracing the lines of his chest. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced down at Dean, whose head was pillowed on his shoulder. He moved to grab his glasses slowly, glancing at the clock as he did. His eyes felt grainy and heavy, so it had to be pretty early still. 

_5:15am. Shit. At least there’s time before class._

“Good morning, Dean,” he said softly, trailing his hand up Dean’s back and scratching his scalp. 

Dean responded by tilting his head up and capturing Castiel’s lips, desperately soft and warm. Castiel let Dean take what he needed, waiting until Dean stroked his cheek with his hand and settled his head back down on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Feeling any better this morning?”

“Marginally,” Dean sighed, apparently not wanting to elaborate. Castiel just waited. Dean knew he had to talk. 

It took more than a few minutes, but Castiel was content to lay in Dean’s warm bed and bask in the smell of Dean all around him while he waited. 

“My mom died in a car crash when I was four years old, on November 2nd, 1983. She’d gone out to get formula, for Sammy, when some dick ran a stop sign and went right through her.”

Castiel had known about the crash. Known a little bit about Dean’s dad, afterwards. Though he’d never actually known any of the details. Dean wasn’t looking at him while he spoke, but that was okay. 

“Like I told you, Dad didn’t handle it real well. I basically raised Sammy, since he was six months old. He never really knew Mom,” Dean said quietly, his arm settling around Castiel’s waist. “I barely knew her either. But I remember her. Sam never even knew her face. Was too little.”

Castiel kept quiet, but he kept stroking Dean’s scalp with his fingers. He was fairly certain it wasn’t helping, but it was all he could really do. 

“When we lived with Dad, that was always the worst day. The anniversary. Never did anything, to us at least, just came home drunker than usual. If he made it home. But I missed her too. Guess Dad never really paid much attention to that. So I’d make Sammy and I some food, snatch some of Dad’s money to buy some shitty pie from the closest convenience store. ‘Cause that’s what Mom did. Not the stealing. The pie.”

God, Castiel wanted to say something. _Anything_. But he had nothing. No words of comfort, nothing that would make this hurt less for Dean. He hadn’t even _known_ any of this, not until now. And he hated himself for it. 

“And we did that. Every year. An’ it was easier, to tune Dad out when he got home. Or whatever. ‘Course, that’s until this year. Sam made other plans, with Jess. Don’t think he even realized he did it. And he offered to cancel, of course, ‘cause it’s Sam, but I dunno. I got into it with him, the other night. Shoulda just let it go. Was never really about Mom, for Sam. It was always about me. Then Dad had to call.”

“You talked to your dad?” Castiel said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. 

Dean nodded, just a tiny movement against Castiel’s shoulder. He sniffed and moved a little bit closer, resting his cheek on Castiel’s chest. 

“Yeah. I was already kinda drunk. Was pissed about Sam, then I took it out on you for some goddamn reason. And Dad calls, makes some friggin’ comment about how I’d grown up to be just like him, after all.” 

There was a layer of disgust to Dean’s voice, a kind of snarl like the words tasted bad coming out of his mouth. 

“That isn’t true, Dean. You’re better than him.”

“You don’t even know him, Cas,” Dean huffed, his arms tightening. 

“No,” Castiel admitted. “But—” _I love you,_ “—I know what you tell me. And you _are better than him,_ Dean. You are.”

Dean grumbled something unintelligible, then was quiet for a few more minutes. Castiel stroked his scalp and hummed, feeling tension melt out of Dean’s body. 

“Do you want to tell me about your mom?” Castiel asked quietly, hesitantly. He wasn’t sure that Dean was going to react in a positive way, but he had an inkling. And it took a few minutes, but Dean did talk. 

“Like what?”

“Like how she cut the crusts of your sandwiches.”

Dead laughed quietly. “She made pie, too. Pecan, apple, blueberry, cherry. All different kinds. Dad told her she was gonna give me a sweet tooth, but she did it anyway. When we started living with Bobby, that’s what I’d make for Sam.”

“So you’re telling me that, all this time, you’ve been withholding your baking skills?” Castiel teased, feeling Dean smile against his chest. 

“M’ not that good. Hers were better.”

“I’ll decide that for myself.”

Dean twisted his head up and kissed Castiel softly, cupping the side of his neck with his hand. 

“She used to call me her angel, too. Now I got one of my own.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows at the cheese, but Dean seemed unperturbed. 

“And she sang me to sleep. When I had bad dreams.”  


“What did she sing?” 

“ _Hey Jude._ It’s still my favorite Beatles song, but its kinda hard to listen to sometimes.”

Castiel just hummed in response. “I don’t know it, but maybe you can show it to me.”

“You don’t know _Hey Jude?_ Seriously, dude?” Castiel pressed his lips together, trying not to look too guilty. He shook his head from side to side, watching the shock on Dean’s face. “ _Hey Jude, don’t make it bad, take a sad song, and make it better?”_ Dean sang a few bars, the tune slow and floating. Castiel didn’t recognize it. 

“Keep going.”

“No way, man,” Dean chuckled quietly, settling back on Castiel’s chest. “Not gonna butcher it. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

Castiel would’ve rather heard Dean sing it, but he knew it was a sensitive spot. “Okay.”

The door to Dean’s bedroom opened then and Sam walked through, a worried look on his face that morphed into embarrassed surprise as soon as he saw them. They had some clothes on, at least, and a comforter covering them. 

“Oh, uh, sorry guys,” Sam stuttered, looking overwhelmingly awkward. 

“S’ okay, Sammy,” Dean sighed, sitting up in his bed. Castiel did the same, letting the hand that was in Dean’s hair slide down to the small of his back. 

“Uh, can we talk, Dean?” 

Sam glanced nervously at Castiel, who took the hint that he was not intended to be a part of the conversation. Before Dean could even respond Castiel jumped in. 

“How about I got get breakfast, and let you two talk?” It was still only about 6:30am, so Castiel had some time before he had to get to his 8:30am class. He might have to borrow a t-shirt and a shower, but that would be fine. 

“Okay,” Dean said, sighing heavily and pulling Cas in by the nape of his neck to touch their foreheads together. It felt like a thank you, and that was enough for Castiel. 

Once Sam left, Castiel climbed out of bed and put his clothes on, then slipped out the front door and around the corner to a nearby bagel shop. Well. “Nearby” being a relative term. He took his time, not wanting to return too soon and interrupt their talk. At the bagel shop he tried to pick out an assortment of things, along with three coffees that he left black. 

When he did eventually get back, it was to find Sam and Dean in and tight embrace in the living room. Somehow, despite being several inches taller than his brother, Sam managed to sink into the hug like he was still the little brother that Dean had taken care of while growing up. Castiel wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not, but he felt like it was what Dean needed. His little brother. 

Sam caught his eye when Castiel crept in the front door, smiling and nodding as an answer to the question on Castiel’s face. He clapped his brother on the back and pulled back, smiling big and wide. 

“Breakfast time, dude.”

Dean sniffed and turned towards Cas, a smile on his face. It looked tired, but it was genuine. 

“Good. I’m friggin’ starving.” 

Castiel didn’t mention that Dean was probably also hungover as hell, and nobody said anything when he used the coffee to swallow down four painkillers. 

Sam and Castiel stationed themselves around the small kitchen table while Dean sliced, toasted, and put cream cheese on their bagels. They were perfectly crunchy and warm and the cream cheese melted in Castiel’s mouth and Dean looked happy and Sam looked happy and Castiel felt like the morning had been far more successful than he could’ve possibly hoped for.

When it got close to 7:30 Castiel went for a shower, turning down Dean’s offer for company with a glare. It didn’t feel great to put his dirty boxer briefs back on, but he did accept a clean t-shirt from Dean’s closet. It was big on him, and had some kind of band logo on it, but it was comfortable and smelled like Dean so it would work for him. He took a moment to be thankful that he’d brought his stuff with him, because having to walk back to his apartment right now would _not_ be fun. 

Dean wrapped him up in a hug by the front door as he started to leave, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Sorry for being such a shit show,” Dean sighed, sounding guilty. 

“Don’t apologize,” Castiel said softly, looking up at him and kissing the corner of his jaw. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Dean grinned at that, looking legitimately excited. “Big weekend ahead of us.”

“Meet the Novaks. How exciting.”

“More like, Dean and Cas take SF. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Castiel laughed, kissing his boyfriend with what he hoped came across as gratitude. “Much better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a COMPLETELY unrelated note to this story, I need your guys' input. Once this story and Ab Aeterno are finished, which might take a while if I'm honest with myself, I have another story that I am itching to write. It'd be an AU, because I cannot write canon to save my life. More specifically, it would be a So You Think You Can Dance!AU featuring: DEAN WINCHESTER, hip hop dancer who hasn't had any professional training in his life and CASTIEL NOVAK, classically trained contemporary dancer. If you don't know, So You Think You Can Dance is a dance competition show, and I can promise cheesy broadway numbers and emotionally charged partner dances. But like, I am questioning my sanity here. I see stripper!Dean AU's and ballerina!Cas AU's but like, Dean is never a dancer? And maybe that makes sense. So my question for Y'ALL is whether or not this is something that would even be remotely interesting or desirable to read? Because I won't write it if it isn't interesting, and there's also a little doctor/dentist AU floating around my brain that is asking to be written. So. If you have an opinion, I would LOVE to hear it. 
> 
> As always, I love you guys to bits.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re still no fun.”
> 
> “Oh, boo hoo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is, again, mysteriously twice as long as usual. Sigh. This is what I get for writing and _then_ trying to divide it up into chapters. Awkward separation ensues. 
> 
> PS thank you all very much for the feedback to my little survey, looks like I have a couple of stories to write...

The drive from UCLA to San Francisco was fairly painless, basically just a straight shot up the 5 until they got close to the bay. Castiel would have preferred to fly, but Dean had been _vehemently_ opposed. Castiel had a sneaking suspicion that Dean was afraid of flying, even if he did claim that he just “felt like driving.”

“My baby deserves an open road,” he’d said with a grin. Castiel was still getting used to him referring to the car like it was a person, but that was his prerogative. 

They left on Friday morning, even though the wedding wasn’t until that Sunday. Gabe had _insisted_ that Castiel get there early for the rehearsal dinner, as well as a little bit of brother fun. It would take about six hours to get to the bay, assuming fairly light traffic. Not a bad drive, and Castiel had to admit that the Impala was a nice way to travel. 

He settled himself into the passenger seat, prescription black aviators on his face, his arm hanging out the window. The lack of air conditioning might have been annoying on another day, but once they were out of LA the air cleared up and the breeze from the open windows actually felt quite nice. It was a warm 72 degrees out, the sun shining bright above them. Castiel found himself staring at Dean more than a few times, which really wasn’t his fault. He had his own sunglasses on, aviators too, though his were tinted brown and were a little bit bigger than Castiel’s. The sun in his hair made it look much blonder than it actually was, his skin taking on a golden glow and his freckles getting darker across his nose as the sun hit his face. 

Dean looked most relaxed when he was behind the wheel of that car, his legs hanging open and one arm flung lazily over the steering wheel. It didn’t even really look like he was driving, more like he was just posing as the car sped down the highway. 

And Castiel couldn’t really resist the urge to reach over and thread his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck, his thumb stroking over the skin there. He watched as a smug smile spread across Dean’s face at his touch, but he just rolled his eyes. 

“Cocky bastard,” he murmured, squeezing the back of Dean’s neck and rubbing the muscles with his thumb. 

“I think I have the right,” Dean laughed, his shoulders relaxing already. “You just can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“I could if I tried.”

“Uh huh,” Dean laughed again. “You nervous about this?”

Castiel shrugged, staring at the bare expanse of freeway in front of them. There was a semi way ahead of them, probably a couple of miles, but it was flat enough that he could spot it. 

“Maybe not nervous, per say. Not wildly excited either, although Gabe is quite enthusiastic.”

“Yeah?” Dean raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of the story. 

“Gabe is…difficult to describe. But the message I received from him this morning included five words and 47 or so exclamation points. If that gives you any indication.”

Dean tossed his head back and laughed, and Castiel learned that it certainly was possible for Dean to get more beautiful than he already was. 

“What about Mom? You talked to her?”

“No,” Castiel sighed. “She knows I’m coming, though. The whole family does. I’m sure they’re all positively abuzz about it.”

“Whatever. We’re gonna have a good time anyway, eh?” he grinned, confident as ever, grabbing Castiel’s hand and winding their fingers together. 

“You sound awfully sure.”

“I am. Because you have _me_ as your hot date, and families love me.”

“Is that so?” Castiel raised his eyebrows skeptically, tilting his head just barely to the side. “I find that somehow hard to believe.”

“Dude. I’m friggin’ charming,” he winked, bringing Castiel’s hand up to his lips and kissing the back of his palm. 

Castiel just rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat and staring out the window while he moved his thumb against the skin of Dean’s hand. 

“Think of it this way. It’s like a mini-vacation, just you and me, plus we get to go to a wedding with free food and an open bar.”

“And my family.”

“Details.”

Castiel heaved a sigh and kept staring out the window, feeling like he could already see San Francisco approaching even though he _knew_ that was ridiculous.

“I know what you need,” Dean said after a second, pulling his hand away and pointing towards the glove box. “There’s a box in there, get it out.”

Castiel studied him for a second, trying to figure out what he was up to before he obeyed. The container in the glove box was full of old cassette tapes, all labeled with Dean’s handwriting. Castiel placed it between them while Dean dug through it for a second, making a triumphant noise when he apparently found what he was looking for. 

“You need a little pump up music,” Dean grinned big and wide, popping a cassette into the car’s player and cranking up the music. He fast forwarded a little bit, pressing play just as the last couple seconds of a song faded out. “You ready?”

“Maybe?” 

The song started, relatively quiet beats of an electric guitar. Drums joined in a couple of seconds later, what sounded maybe like a cymbal before a snare drum. Castiel raised his eyebrows, not exactly sure what Dean was getting at with this song in particular. Dean just kept smiling, pressing harder on the gas and drumming on the side of Castiel’s leg with the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. They sped past the semi that Castiel had spotted, the engine rumbling. Dean was bobbing his head, his bottom lip between his teeth. When the words started Dean sang along, a little too loud and a lot off key. 

_“Livin’ easy, lovin’ free, season ticket on a one way ride. Askin’ nothin’, leave me be, takin’ everythin’ in my stride.”_

“I think I’m missing the point,” Castiel laughed, barely able to hear himself over the roar of the music and the car combined. Dean held up a finger as if he was telling Castiel to _just wait_ , so he did. Not like listening to Dean sing like an idiot wasn’t amusing. 

_“Don’t need reason, don’t need rhyme, ain’t nothin’ that I’d rather do. Goin’ down, party time, my friends are gonna be there too,”_ his smile grew, his drumming on Castiel’s leg getting louder. Castiel squirmed away, laughing and trying to shove his hand away. _“I’m on the highway to hell!”_ he belted out, and Castiel finally figured out what the heck was going on here. Because they were _literally_ on the highway, headed towards the hell that was a weekend with his family, and _wow Dean was a huge dork._

“Are you kidding me?” Castiel laughed, his lips turning up. He kind of wished he could’ve pulled Dean’s sunglasses off, just to see his smile reflected in those green eyes. 

“Not at all. Come on!” he grabbed Castiel’s hand again, raising it up and pointing at the empty road in front of them. _“Highway to hell!”_

***

It was already getting sort of dark outside by the time they were crossing the bridge into San Francisco. The view was gorgeous, but neither of them did much more than observe as it flashed by outside the windows. 

The wedding was being held at a country club in a smaller suburb of San Francisco, but they would stay in the city with Gabe and his fiancee, as well as the rest of the family, until the day of. Castiel hadn’t met her personally, but he had heard her voice over the phone and he knew probably too much about her already just from Gabe’s habit of over-sharing. 

When they finally made it to the hotel it was no surprise that Dean’s Impala stuck out like a sore thumb in the drive of the fancy hotel. It gave Castiel a bitter sort of satisfaction, which he kept to himself.

_Kind of like me, the big black sheep of the family._

Though he probably shouldn’t refer to Dean’s car as a sheep, unless he _wanted_ to get a lecture.

Dean, of course, declined the valet service, deciding that he would rather park himself. Probably so he could tuck the car away in the farthest corner where no one would dare park near it. Castiel opted to unload his suitcase and go check in, telling Dean to just meet him upstairs after the car was parked. 

The lobby was huge and shiny and filled with gaudy furniture and palm trees. It was maybe supposed to give off a “California” vibe, but he didn’t enjoy it much. The employee at the desk was helpful enough, if not a bit snobbish, and it only took a few minutes to find out that they would be staying in a room on the 20th floor. 

On his way up the elevator he contemplated sending a text to Gabe to let him know that he’d arrived, but spending a few minutes settling into the room and waiting for Dean sounded like a good idea. He sent Dean a quick text with their room number, stretching his back and stepping out of the elevator when it finally arrived at his floor. 

As soon as he raised his head he was met by a very familiar face. 

Gabe was leaning up against the wall outside his bedroom door, a smirk on his face that was far too knowing. 

“Little bro, _please_ tell me you didn’t think you could just sneak in here without me knowing.”

“It isn’t _you_ that I was hoping to avoid,” Castiel felt his lips twitch up, walking towards his door.

“Don’t worry,” he laughed, “Mommy Dearest is on another floor. Now open the door I want to see how much nicer my room is than yours.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and placed his key next to the door, not even getting the chance to turn the handle before Gabe was doing it for him. His brother practically bounced into the room, touching every surface and laughing about little things here and there. Castiel took a second to actually soak it in, because _wow_ this was a nice room. Everything was crisp and clean, not all shiny and over the top like the lobby had been. Two of the adjacent walls were made almost entirely of windows, each one with a huge black telescope in front of it. Through the windows he could see the Golden Gate Bridge, as well as a breathtaking view of the sun setting over the bay.  

_Ah winter. Sunsets at 4:30._

“So were you going to say hello? Or…” Castiel let his voice trail off, succeeding in getting an eyebrow raise from Gabe. 

“Formalities. Besides, I’m the groom so you aren’t allowed to sass me this weekend.”

“What about on Monday?”

“As soon as the reception ends,” Gabe smirked again, flopping down on the bed. “So Cas _tiel,”_ he said, emphasizing the last syllable to the point of teasing. “Where’s this date of yours? Gotta say, never thought you’d actually use that plus one.”

Castiel dropped his bag on the ground and sat on the bed next to his brother, leaning back against the headboard. 

“Parking the car.”

Gabe scoffed, a mix between a laugh and some kind of disbelieving sound. “He does know that’s what valet is for, right?”

He was really only half kidding, but the half was a pretty big step. The Novaks had never been lacking in money, and all of the kids had grown up with the privilege of this comfortable wealth. Gabriel was, at least, aware of this privilege; at least more so than Michael or Luke. This didn’t make him any less likely to abuse it, of course, but at least he knew he was doing it. 

“And where is _your_ fiancée?” Castiel hummed, pushing the topic away from Dean at least until he was in the room. 

Gabe didn’t fall for it. 

“Nice deflection. She’s out at the venue, finalizing some details about flowers or cake or lights or some other stuff I don’t care about that is evidently _very_ important.”

“How supportive of you.”

“Trust me, she’d bite my head off if I was there.”

That was probably true. Gabe had a habit of being not too helpful when it came to anything even mildly serious. Castiel still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d made it through medical school, but that was a mystery probably better left unsolved. 

“Do we have plans tonight then?”

“Little bro, this is one of my last nights as a free man. Of _course_ we have plans.”

Castiel held up his hands, trying not to smile at his brother’s exasperated tone. 

“And?”

“And tell your date you need to ditch him for the night, because you and I are hitting the town.”

The grin on Gabe’s face was anything but comforting, Castiel’s stomach twisting up in nervous knots. Before he could respond there was a knock on his door and Gabe was bounding up, flinging the door open before Castiel could even react.

“Speak of the devil!” Gabe said happily, gesturing widely at the room. “Do come in, handsome fellow.”

“Uh,” Dean peeked inside the door and caught Castiel’s eye, stepping through the doorway cautiously. “Which one are you?”

Gabe laughed loudly, strolling back towards Castiel and crossing his arms against his chest. He stood up extra straight and puffed out his chest, but it did nothing to hide the several inches of height difference between him and Dean. 

“The best brother. The most awesome brother. The coolest brother. The lucky bastard who’s walking down the aisle in a couple of days,” he grinned again, tossing a wink at Dean that seemed to catch him off guard. And _that_ was a pleasant surprise, that Gabe’s own rambunctious confidence could rattle Dean’s own. “Gabriel. At your service.”

At that Gabe _actually_ bent into a sweeping bow, with perfect form of course. Dean stared for a second or too before he seemed to gather himself, glancing at Castiel’s barely upturned lips before responding. 

“You were right,” he said, apparently talking to Castiel even if his eyes were settled on Gabe. “He would be hard to describe. The exclamation points make sense, though.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow, a look of what Castiel thought _might_ be approval on his face. 

“My reputation precedes me, then. You must be Dean.”

Dean smiled confidently, taking Gabe’s offered hand. They held eye contact for a moment or two, both of them sizing the other up. 

“Castiel,” Gabe said after a minute, his grin growing. “I like this one. You should keep him.”

He dropped his hand abruptly, spinning and making a quick exit. 

“Be ready at 10!” he called out, just barely audible before the door slammed behind him. 

Silence rang through the room for a second before Dean turned to face him, a confused frown on his face. 

“So, did I pass?”

Castiel just shrugged, his lips twitching up. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”

Dean nodded, wandering around the room and touching everything like Gabe had done. He spent a minute or two actually looking through the telescopes, mumbling some awed phrases as he did. Castiel just waited, crossing his feet underneath him on the bed. 

“This place is friggin’ _fancy_ ,” Dean finally said, coming back over to the bed and laying down. He settled his head in Castiel’s lap, reaching his arms back and running his hands along his thighs. 

“Aren’t you glad we aren’t paying for it?”

Dean huffed a laugh and shut his eyes, arching his back briefly to stretch. 

“Hell yes. But I can appreciate a comfy bed,” he said with a smile, not even bothering to open his eyes to see Castiel’s reaction. “Hey, wanna go walk around? Find some shitty street food?” 

_“God_ yes,” Castiel smiled, getting one in return from Dean. Dean sat up and dragged him into a long kiss, pulling away after a couple of seconds and fixing Castiel’s glasses for him. 

“Thought so. Let’s go Chewie, I’m starved.”

***

San Francisco really was a beautiful city, something that Castiel seemed to have forgotten in his time away. He hadn’t technically grown up here, but he _did_ grow up in a wealthy suburb outside the city. He spent a lot of time here, taking pictures, exploring, doing lots of nothing except observing the bustling city. 

But it was beautiful, and he did like it there. Having Dean by his side didn’t hurt either. 

They managed to find a group of food trucks a couple of blocks away, buying some kind of fancy grilled cheese. Castiel really wasn’t sure what was in it, and it was by no means _shitty street food_ , but it was cheap and delicious all the same. 

“Little bit of grease does the body good,” Dean said happily as they strolled down the street, dropping some stray strands of cheese into his mouth. 

“I’d have to agree,” Castiel hummed back, pulling an extra strand off of Dean’s chin and sticking it in his mouth. Dean grinned wickedly, sucking unnecessarily on Castiel’s fingers. Castiel rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrows until Dean finally laughed and let go. 

“You’re still no fun.”

“Oh, boo hoo.”

Castiel bumped him with his shoulder, otherwise ignoring his protests and continuing the walk back. They got a little bit lost, but the streets were mostly perpendicular so it wasn’t too hard to just sort of walk in the right general direction. They didn’t talk much, both of them enjoying their sandwiches and the city and the warmth of the other’s presence. 

They did bump into each other more than a couple of times while they were walking, but Castiel didn’t really feel like walking farther apart to solve the issue. 

They got back to the hotel sometime before 7, but Castiel didn’t really care enough to check the time. He had yet to see anyone of his family other than Gabriel, and so far that was doing wonders for his mood. Dean flopped down onto the hotel bed before the door even shut, grumbling something unintelligible about sore feet. 

“I’m going to shower,” Castiel called out from the bathroom, feeling kind of grimy from a day in the car. _That_ got Dean’s attention though, and it took him all of three seconds to appear in the doorway of the bathroom. 

“Want company?”

He knew Dean was mostly joking since Castiel had yet to say yes to an offer of company in the shower, but now sort of seemed like the right time to change his answer. 

“Sure.”

Castiel didn’t wait to see Dean’s reaction, spinning to turn the shower on and begin stripping off his clothes. Dean was quiet behind him for a moment before Castiel heard his clothes start to hit the floor.

The shower, luckily, was huge. It had two heavy glass doors, the other three walls made up of dark, mismatched stones. The shower head was proportionally large, one of those big circle ones that didn’t have a lot of pressure but did have a lot of water. Castiel pulled off his glasses and stepped under the stream, pulling Dean in with him. 

The combination of the warm water washing over his face and chest and the pressure of Dean’s chest against his back was nothing short of amazing. One of Dean’s arms wrapped around his waist, the other wiping his wet hair off of his face and tilting his head gently backwards. With his head resting back on Dean’s shoulder his neck laid exposed, and Dean was sure to cover his throat with kisses. 

At some point Dean managed to get some shampoo into his hand, but Castiel was too distracted by his mouth and the feeling of his increasingly hard erection against his butt. Dean worked the shampoo into Castiel’s hair slowly, massaging the base of his skull and his temples with adept fingers while his lips pressed kisses along the line of his jaw. 

Castiel moaned, sagging more heavily against Dean and directing the hand around his waist further downwards. 

“Pushy pushy,” Dean chuckled, nipping at the corner of Castiel’s jaw. Castiel managed to make something like a shushing noise, though it quickly morphed into a moan when Dean’s hand wrapped around the base of his shaft. 

The water slowly washed the shampoo out of his hair as Dean massaged his scalp, both of their breathing picking up as Dean’s hand increased speed. 

It took nothing at all for Castiel to go tumbling over the edge, Dean’s hand working him through the shooting heat. 

When his mind decided to return to his body he turned around in Dean’s arms, taking his face in his hands and kissing him forcefully. Dean groaned into his mouth softly, one of the few sounds he ever made, and Castiel cherished it. It was one of the fun things about Dean being generally pretty quiet. When he _wasn’t_ quiet, then Castiel knew he’d done something _really_ right. 

Castiel followed Dean’s lead and wrapped his fingers around Dean’s erection, feeling Dean’s hips shift to thrust into his fist. Dean’s arm around Castiel’s waist stayed wrapped tight the entire time, Castiel licking into Dean’s mouth and rubbing their tongues together. Having Dean, pliant and desperate pressing against him, hot water running over their bare skin, god it was _everything_. It was everything Castiel wanted. 

And when Dean moaned and braced himself against the shower wall as he came—Castiel could have relived that moment a hundred times and he would’ve enjoyed it just as much.

“Remind me why we don’t shower together every day,” Dean panted, parting Castiel’s lips with his tongue. 

“Because,” Castiel replied as soon as he could get the space to speak, “that would spoil it. The anticipation is part of the fun.”

Dean turned around in place, spinning them so that Castiel was out of the spray of the water. 

“You sayin’ you’ve been saying no for anticipation’s sake?” Dean grinned, squirting some conditioner into his hand and rubbing it playfully into Castiel’s hair. 

“I would never tease like that,” Castiel hummed, closing his eyes at the pleasant pressure of Dean’s fingers. 

“Uh huh.”

Dean turned again to rinse the conditioner out of Castiel’s hair, careful to direct the water away from his eyes. 

“Your turn,” Castiel said softly, rubbing shampoo onto Dean’s scalp and attempting to give him the same attention that he’d received. His fingers were less skilled, his touches less experienced, but Dean held him and his eyes slipped closed, so Castiel figured that was a good sign. 

“Soap,” Dean mumbled when the shampoo was rinsed out of his hair, tugging Castiel closer and kissing him lazily. Castiel tore his lips away and grabbed the hotel-provided bar of soap, lathering his hands while Dean kissed up his neck.

“I can’t do much with you wrapped around me,” Castiel said with a small twitch of his lips, rubbing his soapy hands over what he could reach of Dean’s chest and shoulders. 

“Don’t really care,” he sighed, grinning flirtatiously. 

“So stubborn.” Castiel reached his hands up and smeared the soap across Dean’s face, smiling at his shocked expression. 

“Thanks, for that. Dick.”

“You are welcome,” Castiel hummed, cupping his boyfriend’s soapy cheeks and kissing the complaints off his lips. 

When they finally did turn the shower off Castiel reached for a towel, but Dean stopped him. Instead, Dean reached for the two fluffy, grayish robes hanging on the back of the door. He pulled one off of the hanger and handed it to Cas, both of them pulling them on at the same time. They both wrapped themselves up and tied them around the middle, and Castiel had to admit this was a pretty good idea. The sleeves were too long and the collar was so puffy that he sort of felt like he didn’t have a neck, but it was comfortable. 

_A robe for home would be nice. Robes are nice. Dean in robes is nice._

Dean grabbed his hand one more time before he left the bathroom, tugging him back and ruffling his dripping hair with a towel. It probably made the fluffiness a lot worse, but at least it would be more dry.

“Thanks for that,” Castiel glared at him, snatching the towel and giving his dirty blonde hair the same treatment. Dean didn’t seem to care though. 

“Think they have crappy movies on TV?”

“I’m _positive_ they have crappy movies on TV.”

Dean grinned, pulling Castiel back out into the bedroom and onto their bed. Castiel curled up against him and laid his head on Dean’s chest, feeling lips press against his forehead. 

“Let’s see,” Dean sighed, flipping quickly through channels. “ _Titanic_ , but that feels like a commitment. There’s _CSI: Miami_ , or the second Spider-Man movie. The Toby McGuire one.”

“ _CSI_ sounds good,” Castiel yawned, snuggling closer. 

“Hey hey, no yawning. You got someplace to be in a couple of hours.”

“I know,” Castiel groaned. Going out sounded terrible, right then. All he wanted to do was stay curled up with Dean all night and fall asleep together, but that wasn’t really an option. 

“Where are you guys going, anyway?”

“Not sure. Out on the town, whatever that means.”

“Well, be careful.”

Castiel almost took him seriously, but there was a note of teasing in his voice that suggested otherwise. 

“How so?”

“I just heard that everybody in San Francisco is, like, really ugly. Especially the guys.”

Castiel stared up at him, furrowing his eyebrows and looking for the smile at the corner of his mouth. 

“So when you’re around ugly people all night, you can just think about me. And how I’ll be here, all alone,” Dean pretended to pout, but Castiel knew better than that. 

“Hmm,” Castiel hummed, squinting his eyes and pushing his glasses up his nose. “So what you’re telling me, is everyone in the city of San Francisco is unattractive.”

“Hideous.”

“And when I’m confronted with all of these unattractive people…”

“Monstrous, even,” Dean grinned, pushing a hand through Castiel’s still-damp hair and tugging on his earlobe. 

“Monstrous. Of course,” Castiel nodded seriously. “So when confronted with these monstrous people, I should just think about poor Dean Winchester, all alone in a fancy hotel with HBO.”

“Exactly. Your poor, poor boyfriend.”

“Not gonna happen. I don’t feel bad for you at all.”

Dean huffed a laugh, wrapping a robed arm tight around his shoulders and holding him against his chest. Castiel’s lips twitched up and he nuzzled closer, humming at the contact of Dean’s lips on his forehead. 

They laid in silence for a while, Dean chuckling at the cheesy lines every once in a while. Castiel made a guess about who the murderer was going to be at the beginning of every episode, and he was generally right. Which Dean seemed not too happy about. 

After two and a half episodes Castiel reluctantly rolled off the bed to get dressed. He grabbed some clothes out of his bag and wandered into the bathroom to change, which Dean apparently thought was pretty hilarious. 

“Dude, we literally just showered together. You don’t have to leave to change.”

Castiel just shushed him and shut the bathroom door. 

His hair was a train wreck. It was mostly dry now, little tufts sticking up all over his head and one whole side hilariously flat from where he’d been laying on Dean. A few minutes with the blow dryer and he managed to make some progress, at least to get rid of the flat spot. It still looked like he’d just finished a couple of hours of marathon sex, but there wasn’t much to do about that. He pulled on his khakis, a brown belt, and a dark blue and white plaid shirt, running his fingers through his hair and adjusting his glasses before leaving the bathroom. 

“Damn,” Dean commented, whistling low and grinning. “You are gorgeous. Have I told you that before?”

“Probably,” Castiel tilted his head, standing at the foot of the bed. 

Dean inched forward, planting his feet on the ground and pulling Castiel in to stand between his knees.

“It’s probably a good thing I’m not going,” Dean said, settling his hands on Castiel’s hips and leaning into Castiel’s touch as he ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. 

“And why is that?”

“I think I’d last, _maybe_ five minutes before I dragged you off to the bathroom. Or just straight back here.”

“Your self control could use some work,” Castiel murmured, leaning down so their lips were _almost_ touching, but not quite. “I would last at least eight minutes.”

Dean grinned, stretching up and closing the space between them. Castiel hummed against his mouth, tracing his lips with his tongue and pressing closer when Dean’s tongue slipped into his mouth. 

It didn’t last long before there was a sharp knock on the door. Castiel just whined, making no efforts to move and getting a laugh out of Dean. 

“Angel,” Dean managed between kisses, standing up and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You gotta go.”

“No thanks,” Castiel sighed, feeling his body start to move as Dean walked them towards the door. 

“Sooner you leave,” he said, words muffled as Castiel pressed closer. “Sooner you come back.”

Dean spun him around abruptly and opened the door, and it was a good thing his arm was still around Castiel’s waist or he definitely would’ve ended up facedown on the carpet. Gabe was standing there, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. 

“Am I interrupting?”

Castiel wanted to protest, but he knew he looked guilty as hell. Cheeks pink, lips kiss-swollen, back pressed up against Dean’s chest, _Dean_ wearing only a bathrobe. 

“Not at all,” Dean answered for him, and Castiel could hear the cocky grin in his voice. “You kids have fun out there.”

And with that he let go of Castiel’s waist and stepped backwards, disappearing back into their room. Castiel stared after him for a second or two before clearing his throat and stepping out of the room before his self-control completely shattered and he ran in after him. He didn’t really take in the look on Gabriel’s face until the door was well and closed behind him. When Castiel finally turned to him Gabe was wearing a cocky grin not unlike Dean’s, his eyes bright and amused. 

“Well _he’s_ a little firecracker, isn’t he?”

“Um,” Castiel managed, smiling weakly. “Are you ready?”

“Sure, little bro,” Gabriel laughed, pushing Castiel down the hallway towards the elevator. “But you’re gonna tell me all about this little romance you got going. No matter how much alcohol I have to feed you.”

_Shit shit shit._

Yeah, it was going to be a long night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say! With this chapter, this fic is officially the longest one I've written. Woah.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please stop.”
> 
> “And _all I’m saying,_ is that I can appreciate a nice pair of bowlegs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! A normal length chapter! Which, to be fair, is maybe not better for you guys. Who knows. This is the last of the really rapid updates, I have some more significant editing to do in the next one before I can post it. Shouldn't be too long, but don't expect it right away. 
> 
> Let's have a little fun with Gabriel, eh?

“No Michael or Luke tonight?” Castiel asked, talking loudly so Gabe could hear him over the unnecessarily loud bar music. His brother had picked out some swanky place nearby, with a shining bar-top and padded stools. It was pretty packed too, but not uncomfortably so. 

“Please,” Gabe scoffed, flagging the bartender. “You think I’d bring those dick-wads along?”

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t,” Castiel’s lips twitched. Gabriel eyed him for a second, pressing his lips into a line before turning back to the bartender and ordering a string of drinks. The guy gave him a weird look, but Gabe flashed his black American Express and all was well. “What did you do?”

“Nothing you won’t find out about soon,” Gabe grinned, tossing him a wink. “So tell me about this man of yours, little bro.”

“What do you want to know?” Castiel tried to ask nonchalantly, not sure he pulled it off. 

“Where’d you two crazy kids meet?”

“He was a volunteer for my photography class, one of my models.”

“You know,” Gabe laughed, smiling up at the bartender as he dropped off an entire tray full of drinks. “I bet Mother would be much less disapproving of the whole _photography_ thing if she knew about the hot men involved.”

“More likely, she would be much _more_ disapproving.”

“Ah, drat,” Gabe grinned. “How could I forget? The homosexuality! The horror!”

Castiel spared a second to glare at him before sizing up the huge amount of alcohol in front of them. They were mostly shots, of varying different colors. A couple of them were topped, with whipped cream or salt or some kind of garnish, some of them plain. There were also two margaritas, apparently to wash down the several other kinds of alcohol. 

“Was all of this necessary?” Castiel sighed, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Absolutely,” Gabe just winked at him, holding up a pair of matching pink shots. Castiel took it, raising his arm to meet Gabe’s glass for a toast. 

They tossed the shots back at the same time, Castiel with much less confidence. It tasted sweet like candy in his mouth, and didn’t burn nearly as much as he had anticipated. The sugar was going to be a problem tomorrow though. 

“So who made the first move?” Gabe continued, picking through the shots for another matching pair. This one was light brownish in color, with a whipped cream topping. “Tell me it was you.”

“I wish I could,” Castiel said, tossing this shot back too. It was even better than the last, roasty and sweet like coffee, though he did get whipped cream on his nose. “But it was Dean. He just sort of…grabbed me in the kitchen.”

“Kinky,” Gabe grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. 

_“Not_ like that.”

Gabriel picked out another set of shots, these ones clear with a salt rim and a lime. Probably tequila. 

He was right. 

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. It’s like we aren’t even related.”

“In my defense,” Castiel hissed as the liquor burned down his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. “I thought he was straight.”

Gabriel practically spat out his drink at that, he was laughing so hard. 

“Tell me you’re kidding, Castiel.”

“Um. No?”

Gabe laughed harder, tossing his blonde head back and wiping his eyes dramatically. 

“That is too funny. You are so clueless, little bro, it’s adorable.”

“You act like it’s _so_ obvious,” Castiel huffed, glaring at him. He wasn’t _that_ clueless. Definitely not. 

“That’s because it _is,”_ Gabe handed him another shot glass, another one of the pink ones. Castiel swallowed it grumpily, not really tasting it. Gabe smacked his lips and set the empty shot down, leveling his eyes at Castiel with a mischievous smirk on his face. “I mean, Mr. Bowlegs is practically _begging_ for somebody to pound him into a mattress.”

“Gabriel!” Castiel hissed, smacking his brother’s arm. There was _no_ scenario where his _brother_ should be allowed to say something like that, no matter the circumstances. 

“What?” he snapped back, the smirk never leaving his face. “I speak the truth. You know that.”

“Just…ugh. Don’t. For my sanity.”

“Look, I’m an all-loving soul. Just because Kali is the one who nailed me down doesn’t mean I don’t still bend in a couple different ways, if you know what I mean,” he said with a wink, just for embellishment. 

“Please stop.”

“And _all I’m saying_ , is that I can appreciate a nice pair of bowlegs.”

“Alright,” Castiel groaned, cutting off his brother’s laugh. “This is done. This conversation is done.”

“One last question!” Gabe grinned, handing Castiel another shot and forcing him to make eye-contact. “How’s it feel when they’re wrapped around you?”

“Gabriel! _Enough.”_

Gabe just held up his other hand and laughed, drinking the shot in his hand slowly. Castiel did the same, huffing in annoyance at his stupid obnoxious brother. 

***

Some amount of hours—Castiel had lost track how many—later found Gabriel and Castiel stumbling their way out of their fifth bar of the night. They were both plastered, hanging on each other and singing as they tried to find their way home. 

_“I know who I want to take me home!”_ they belted, not even close to in-sync and even farther from in-tune. _“I know who I want to take me ho-oome!”_

Castiel was laughing uncontrollably, waving his free arm in the air and staring up at the inky night sky. There really were a lot of stars, way more stars than there were in LA. 

_“I know who I want to take me home, take me ho-oo—”_

“No no no!” Castiel stopped, shushing Gabe unsuccessfully. “You have to, you have to go _up._ _Ho-oo_ —see? up— _oo-ome._ Get it? It’s, it’s _up._ You have to go—”

“Shhh,” Gabriel placed a clumsy finger on his lips. “The tune is what I make it, Cas _tiel_.” 

“Shut up, Gab _riel,”_ Castiel fired back, laughing a second later. 

Castiel wasn’t entirely sure how they found their way back, if he was being honest. At least the hotel was fairly hard to miss. He slouched against the wall in the elevator, humming quietly and laughing to himself. He heard the elevator ding somewhere in his mind, but that didn’t really seem important. 

“Little bro,” Gabe kicked him, his own eyes still closed. “This’s your stop. For the peasants.”

Castiel snorted and stumbled out of the elevator, intending to say some kind of goodbye until the elevator slid shut behind him. 

_Whoops._

It took a few minutes of fumbling with his key before he made it inside the door, and even then he wasn’t quiet about it. He didn’t turn on any lights though, just walked blindly through the dark of the room led only by the faint light of the bedside clock. 

_3:15? Is it really 3:15?_

He laughed quietly, kicking off his shoes and falling down onto the bed. Luckily he didn’t fall _onto_ anything, but there was a very warm, very nice smelling body next to him that he was very interested in getting closer to. 

“Cas?” Dean mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. Castiel just hummed and pressed closer to him, slanting their lips together sloppily. Dean made a surprised noise but returned the kiss, albeit with much less fervor than Castiel. 

“What’s wrong,” Castiel mumbled, cupping Dean’s face as he came more and more into focus in the dark. Dean was staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, his thumbs rubbing at both of Castiel’s cheeks. “And what are you doing?”

“You reek like seven different kinds of alcohol and perfume.”

Castiel hummed, forgetting all about his questions. “Dean, there are a _lot_ of girls at bars.”

“That there are.”

“Not that I didn’t _know_ that. And they were _not_ all ugly, like you said. I think you lied to me.”

Dean laughed, but it sounded kind of forced. “You into girls now, too?”

“No,” Castiel inched closer to him, unhappy about the comforter separating their bodies. “But aesthetically, I can appreciate them.”

“I’m just impressed you pronounced that word.”

“Shut up,” Castiel mumbled, feeling kind of sleepy and like he would really like to be kissing Dean right now. So he did just that, pressing their lips together again. Dean responded more enthusiastically that time, licking into Castiel’s mouth and gripping the nape of his neck. Castiel groaned into his mouth, squirming closer until Dean pulled abruptly away. 

“Maybe you should get undressed,” he mumbled, his voice breathy. 

“Maybe _you_ should undress me.”

Dean grinned at that, sliding out of bed and rifling through their suitcases for a moment before returning. Castiel laid on his back and hummed while Dean undressed him from the foot of the bed, sitting up and shifting various body parts as needed. 

“You humming ‘Closing Time’ right now, dude?”

“It goes up, right?” he cracked an eye open to stare at Dean, waiting for an answer. 

“No clue what you mean,” he laughed, leaning down to unbutton Castiel’s shirt. “And I definitely wouldn’t have guessed that _you_ knew that song.”

_“Ho-oo-ome,”_ Castiel tried to demonstrate, pointing up on the middle note and down on the last one. 

“Yeah, man, gotta go up,” Dean was shaking his head and laughing, pulling Castiel’s pants off. “I got you. You’re really drunk right now, huh?”

“No,” Castiel huffed. “Very sober.”

Dean snorted, reaching down and grabbing Castiel’s sweats from next to him before pulling them up and over Castiel’s legs. Castiel propped himself up on his elbows and stared down at Dean, tilting his head to the side. 

“Dean. You are supposed to be _undressing_ me, not _dressing_ me.”

“I’m doing both.”

He grabbed a shirt this time, sliding it on over Castiel’s head. Castiel squinted his eyes and shoved his arms through the arm holes, staring down at the AC/DC t-shirt on his body. 

“And this isn’t mine.”  


“No, it’s mine.”

Castiel continued squinting at him, trying to really see him. It was still really dark in the room, and his eyes hadn’t quite adjusted, but he could still sort of make out Dean’s expression. He looked tired, and sort of bemused, and also sort of unhappy. Castiel sat forward and reached his arms up, cupping Dean’s face in his hands. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, man,” Dean mumbled, turning his face and kissing the inside of Castiel’s wrist with small smile. “S’ the middle of the night, you friggin’ woke me up, and I’d really love to be asleep again. Preferably with you this time.”

A smile twitched at the corner of Castiel’s mouth, because _that_ was bordering on sentimental. 

“Okay,” he murmured, pulling Dean back down onto the bed. Dean let himself be led, slipping under the covers with him. He pressed himself up against Dean in every place he was able, feeling Dean’s arms wrap around his waist and shoulders, his lips in his hair. Dean breathed out heavily, the warm air brushing against Castiel’s scalp. 

“I smell like you now,” Castiel commented, nuzzling closer to the leathery, car oil smell that was wrapped around him. 

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, sounding very, very far away. “Yeah, you do.”

***

Castiel woke up feeling spectacularly hung over. The end of the night was blurry, and coming back to the room was _really_ blurry. It didn’t help that he generally didn’t drink very much, but Gabriel was already proving to be a bad influence. 

It took him a few minutes to decide why he’d woken up feeling so weird. His stomach was threatening to throw itself out of his body, and his brain wanted to crumple in on itself, but it wasn’t either of those things. 

His bed was empty. 

Castiel sat up slowly, finding his glasses and a bottle of water with a couple of painkillers on the nightstand. He put them on and swallowed the pills, blinking around the room and looking for any sign of life. It didn’t really take long to figure out that Dean wasn’t there. 

His phone didn’t prove to be any help, since the only message he had was one from Gabriel telling him to drag his hungover self up to his and Kali’s suite for breakfast. He would’ve protested, but it wasn’t necessarily untrue. 

At that point he had a couple of options. He could’ve texted Dean, he could’ve gone up to Gabriel’s room, he could sit and freak out and wonder where the heck Dean was. Maybe the whole wedding thing was too much for him. Maybe the whole thing was just a bad idea. Maybe—

The door to their room opened and Dean strolled in, red faced and sweating in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt that was clinging to him. His hair was sticking up and he was panting, and Castiel found himself once again under his damn spell. 

“Yo,” Dean said, tugging his ear buds out of his ears. “You’re alive.”

“Where did you go?” Castiel asked, wincing a tiny bit at how needy he sounded. 

“For a run. Was feeling a little cooped up.”

“I didn’t know you ran,” Castiel mused, tilting his head just barely to the side. 

“I don’t. Usually.” 

_Oh._

He wanted to ask about that, ask why, but he didn’t. 

Instead Castiel just nodded, self-consciously tugging his fingers through his hair. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed to pull his shoes off, sighing heavily and running his hands over his face. Castiel wanted to touch him, to lay around and snooze in bed all day, but when he reached out a hand Dean just laughed and pulled away. 

“Dude. I’m disgusting. Gonna go shower.”

Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but Dean didn’t wait around to listen. The bathroom door closed and the shower started a couple of seconds later, and Castiel could just barely hear Dean singing under his breath. 

It was pretty obvious that something was wrong, Castiel just wasn't sure what. He didn't know what he’d said to Dean when he got back to the night before, but he couldn’t imagine what he might’ve said to put Dean in this mood. 

Dean only took a couple of minutes to shower, and when he emerged from the steam filled room with droplets of water on his bare torso, a white towel wrapped around his hips, and didn’t make eye contact, Castiel decided enough was enough. 

“Dean.”

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean didn’t even look up as he spoke, rifling through his bag for clothes. 

_“Dean,”_ Castiel tried again, with more force this time. Dean sighed and raised his head, staring at Castiel with raised eyebrows and exasperated green eyes. 

“Yeah?”

Castiel crooked his fingers, gesturing for Dean to come closer. Dean gave him a look that said he wasn’t buying any of Castiel’s bullshit, but he came forward anyway. When he got within arms reach Castiel twisted their fingers together, tugging Dean down to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. Dean let himself be led, a little reluctantly maybe, but it was something. 

“You’re in a mood this morning,” Castiel murmured, tracing the lines of muscle on Dean’s forearms with his fingertips. 

“Dude. I’m fine.”

Castiel had to resist the urge to snort, because _that_ wasn’t the most obvious lie in the world. 

“That,” Castiel said quietly, “was one of your worst lies.”

“I’m _fine,”_ Dean rolled his eyes, leaning in and planting a quick, empty kiss on Castiel’s lips. “See?”

“Well now I know you’re lying for sure.”

“Uh huh, and why’s that, Sherlock?”

“Because that was definitely the worst kiss I’ve ever had.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, a familiar playfulness filling his eyes. 

“Now you’re just being hurtful.”

“Maybe. Truthful, though.”

Castiel saw a smile tugging at Dean’s lips and tried not to look too smug about it. 

“Liar,” Dean shifted closer, his eyes flicking down and focusing on Castiel’s lips for several long, torturous seconds for coming back up to meet his gaze. 

“Perhaps you’ve lost your skill.”

“My ass,” Dean grumbled under his breath, grabbing Castiel by the nape of his neck a little roughly and tugging him forward. 

Their lips crashed together, filled with every ounce of heat and need that the last one lacked. Dean’s tongue parted his lips easily, mapped out the familiar planes of his mouth with each flick. Castiel melted, letting Dean lead the way and groaning softly into his throat. Whatever complaints his head and stomach had had before, they were gone now. 

Dean blinked slowly and heavily as he pulled away, a grin spreading across his face. 

“Now I got best kiss and worst kiss,” Dean said softly, pushing his fingers through Castiel’s hair. 

“Best, worst, first, last, everything in between. Only. For now, at least,” Castiel sighed as he counted the freckles across the bridge of Dean’s nose, not even thinking about the words spilling out of his mouth until Dean reacted to them. 

“Only?” he said teasingly, the seriousness in his eyes betraying his words. 

“Only. Now are you done being ridiculous?”

“You are such a dick,” Dean grinned, tackling Castiel down onto the bed and wrapping him up in his arms. 

“Yes,” Castiel hummed. “I’m so terrible to you. Now will you stay here and feel bad for me and my miserable hangover?”

“Pants necessary?” Dean winked, squeezing Castiel’s side. 

“Pants strictly not necessary.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t feel like getting up.”

Dean slid underneath the comforter, tossing his damp towel on the floor and pulling Castiel up against his chest. Castiel tried very hard not to think about how very much skin there was laid out underneath the blanket, focusing instead on forming words and acting relatively coherent. 

“Have a fun night last night?” Dean grinned, laughter in his voice again. 

“Sure,” Castiel hummed, walking two fingers across the freckles on Dean’s chest. Dean glanced down at him, but didn’t say anything. 

“Dude, you were hammered. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that wasted.”

“I’m positive you haven’t.”

“You’re probably a pretty fun drunk. Ya know, after you let loose a little bit,” Dean winked at him, and Castiel tore his gaze away from the clusters of stars on Dean’s skin to glare up at him. “You are definitely a horny drunk though.”

“Am not,” Castiel grumbled, his face heating up a couple of degrees. 

“You came in and slobbered all over me, then told me to take your clothes off. Wanna argue with that?”

Castiel just huffed, ignoring the chuckle that followed. Maybe he didn’t exactly remember saying that or doing that, but whatever. 

“Well I feel like death, so I think I’ve paid my dues.”

“Hey hey, never said I minded,” Dean laughed, scooting down the bed to press his lips against Castiel’s jawline. “Just prefer my partners to be a little more responsive.”

“Good to know,” Castiel rolled his eyes, sinking into Dean’s touch. 

“You know, I can hear it when you roll your eyes,” Dean mumbled against his skin, running his nose up the side of Castiel’s neck. 

“Liar.”

“Would I lie to you?” Dean pulled back and looked him in the eyes, something serious hidden behind the laughter in his eyes. 

“Maybe.”

“Dude,” Dean laughed, placing a hand on the side of Castiel’s neck and touching their foreheads together. “The right answer was no.”

Castiel placed his hand on top of Dean’s, closing his eyes and breathing in the familiar smell surrounding him. 

“By the way, what did I do last night to turn you into Oscar the Grouch this morning?”

Dean snorted, pulling back and lying down on his back. Castiel rolled over and rested his chin on his chest, waiting for a proper response. “Nothin’, man. I was being stupid. And was that a reference?”

“Don’t change the subject.” When Dean didn’t speak Castiel raised an eyebrow, determined to wait him out. It worked.  

“Fine. You came home reeking like perfume with friggin’ lipstick on both your cheeks talking about all the _aesthetically pleasing_ girls you saw out and I dunno. I didn't like it.”

“I had lipstick on my cheeks?” Castiel pondered, trying to figure out where that would’ve been from. He wasn’t even sure he’d had a _conversation_ with anyone wearing lipstick, let alone gotten a kiss. And yes, there had been beautiful women out. Not any that _Castiel_ had any interest in, but that didn’t make them less beautiful. But then…

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Was just bein’ stupid.”

"You were being  _jealous_ , is what you were being," Castiel teased, keeping his tone light.

"Was not," Dean grumbled, avoiding Castiel's eye-contact. It was actually pretty comical, the whole thing. Castiel felt a little twinge of guilt, because none of it had been on purpose, and more than a little flutter of satisfaction in his gut. A little bit of harmless jealousy didn't look bad on Dean. Not at all. 

"You know I wouldn't do anything like that."

"Yeah, I know. Like I said, was bein' stupid."

Castiel kissed him, trying to erase the tiny frown from his lips. 

“Do you want to know what it was from?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, a skeptical look on his face. “Maybe?”

“Gabe took me to a drag show,” Castiel sighed, watching a grin spread across Dean’s face. “And Gabe kept telling the performers that _I_  was getting married. So two of them decided to pull me up on stage, and I didn't exactly get out of that scott-free.”

Dean was full out laughing, grinning from ear to ear like a huge idiot. “Wow, I love your brother,” he managed between laughs, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“Funny,” Castiel grumbled. “Because I hate him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And again, as a completely unrelated note to this story, I got some really positive feedback on my AU idea, so it seems like that is definitely something that I will be writing. Although, interestingly enough, I spent the entire day on Sunday writing and somehow ended up with ~~12k~~ 17k words of an ABO/shifter!AU and I really honestly don't know how that happened. so. the SYTYCD!AU is going to get written, but if this story turns into something that I like then it's likely that that's what you'll see from me next. And with that I swear I'm done talking about other fics in this fic. woooo okay loves ya


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey boyfriend?”
> 
> “Yes, Dean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am wildly unhappy with this. Nothing inside of my head wanted to go down on paper. But I made you guys wait long enough, so here's something. I apologize a trillion times for being terrible.

“Alright,” Dean sighed, ruffling Castiel’s hair. “Quit moping and let’s get up. I’m starved.” 

“Let’s not do that,” Castiel grumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around Dean’s waist. “Getting up sounds awful. Food sounds awful.”

Dean cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead, chuckling softly. 

“Wow you’re a downer when you’re hungover. But hey, you can stay here. I gotta eat.” 

“No,” Castiel groaned, getting dragged across the bed as Dean tried to stand up since he refused to let go. “Stay.” 

Dean sighed and laid back down, pushing his fingers through Castiel’s hair and sighing dramatically. Castiel was pretty sure he was on the receiving end of an exasperated look, but he kept his eyes closed. 

“You’re killin’ me, angel. I’m going to starve to death. Lemme go and I’ll be right back.” 

“Or I could convince you to stay.” 

Castiel cracked open one eye, just to see the reaction. Dean eyed him, blinking a couple of times before grinning flirtatiously. 

“You could convince me? Just like that?” 

“Yes,” Castiel replied, slowly kissing each freckle on Dean’s chest. “Just like that.” 

“Who says I’m that easy?” 

“Me.” 

Dean laughed at that, his thumb stroking Castiel’s temple. He resisted for a minute or so, but Castiel was patient and also _really_ didn’t want to get up yet. When Dean finally let out a grumpy sigh and rolled onto his back, pulling Castiel on top of him, he knew he’d won. 

“You win. Now get up here.” 

Castiel laughed quietly and ignored him, continuing to kiss each individual freckle. There were a lot on his chest, and his shoulders, more than Castiel had had the time to count, and he intended to kiss every one of them. 

“Cas.”

“What?” he laughed again, stroking his hands over the skin on Dean’s sides. His voice was soft, and not as playful, and Castiel loved how it formed his name. 

“Get up here already.” 

“No thanks.” 

Dean huffed and pushed his fingers through Castiel’s hair, tugging lightly. His other hand ran down Castiel’s spine, settling at the dip of his back. 

“First you don’t let me eat. Now you don’t let me kiss you. This is terrible.” 

“Quit whining,” Castiel chided, biting Dean’s collarbone. “I’m not finished.” 

“Dude. Finished with what?” 

“My mission.” 

Dean laughed and dropped his head back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling while running his fingers through Castiel’s hair. Castiel continued to cover his chest in kisses, each one getting a little bit messier as Castiel got more and more distracted. 

“And what exactly is your mission?” Dean asked. 

“It’s top secret. So I can’t tell you.” 

“Uh huh,” Dean chuckled, obviously not buying the story but letting it go. “Well you let me know when you’re done.” 

Castiel continued his work for who knows how much longer, listening to the steady rhythm of Dean’s breathing and the calming thump of his heart. He didn’t make it to every freckle—he’d need more time for that—but when he was finally satisfied he slowly kissed his way up Dean’s chest until his lips found the soft skin of his neck. Dean sighed as he tilted his head to give Castiel better access, and he couldn’t help but notice the tiny smile playing at Dean’s lips. 

“Nice of you to join me,” he said, affection in his voice. 

Castiel hummed, nibbling at the skin of his neck and gently biting the line of his jaw before finally covering Dean’s lips with his own. It felt like heaven, the warmth of his lips and the taste of him on Castiel’s tongue. Dean inhaled sharply and Castiel could tell he was itching to kiss back harder, but he seemed to reign it in. Castiel rewarded him by parting his lips with his tongue and rolling his hips down. Dean groaned quietly, tightening his hand on Castiel’s back. The other still hovered in his hair, and Castiel wondered if Dean even remembered that it was there. 

“Hi,” Castiel said quietly, pulling on Dean’s bottom lip with his teeth. Dean didn’t even open his eyes, and Castiel definitely didn’t miss the way he lifted his head to chase the kiss. 

“Hi,” he sighed, apparently remembering the hand in Castiel’s hair and using it to pull him back down. Castiel melted into the kiss for a couple of seconds, pressing down against Dean’s body. 

“Have I convinced you yet?” Castiel mumbled, the words barely audible between open mouthed kisses. 

“Nope. Better keep trying.”

And he did. Castiel memorized every tiny detail of Dean’s mouth. His chest ached with how badly he wanted this, even while he had it in his arms. He wanted to be closer, he _needed_ to be closer. He needed—

The sharp knocking on their door brought the whole thing crashing down around him. 

“Go away,” Castiel snapped, loud enough that whoever had the nerve to knock on their door would hear it. Dean was laughing, but Castiel shut him right up. 

_“C’mon, little bro! We have shit to do! Put your dicks away and get out here.”_

Castiel ignored him. Gabriel could wait. 

_“Don’t make me get Mommy. Or Luci. You know, on second thought, stay in there so I can get Luci. Now_ that _would be fun.”_

Castiel groaned and tore his mouth away from Dean’s, resting their foreheads together. _Fucking big brother._

“ _Fine,_ Gabriel. Give me ten minutes.” 

There was a noise of celebration and some pounding on the door before Gabriel seemed to disappear. Castiel sighed heavily and flopped down onto Dean’s chest, shivering at the feeling of his hand moving along the skin of his back. 

“I hate him,” he grumbled, valiantly resisting the urge to kiss Dean stupid again. 

“I know, angel,” Dean laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead and sounding equally as frustrated. “I know.” 

***

Dean and Castiel went down to the lobby a few minutes later, after they were dressed and somewhat presentable. Castiel went with jeans and a t-shirt, and just hoped he wouldn’t have to see any of his family just yet. When they got downstairs Gabriel was waiting, with a woman who must’ve been Kali. 

“Alright alright,” Gabriel said, slinging an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Little bro, little bro’s boyfriend, this is my incredibly gorgeous and perfect fiancee.” 

He gestured at Kali as he spoke, and by the look on her face she was used to this kind of stuff from him. She was tall and lean, a little taller than Gabriel, and smooth dark skin and black hair. She had on a red dress and heels, her hair curled perfectly and her makeup done carefully. 

“So this is Castiel,” she said with a smile, carefully examining him. He tried not to squirm under her gaze, but it wasn’t easy. “And?” 

She held out her hand to Dean, her eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“Dean,” he said with a charming smile, gently taking her hand. “Nice to meet you.” 

She hummed, and her and Gabriel exchanged a look that Castiel knew had to mean something. 

“What things do we have to do today?” Castiel asked. 

“Final suit fitting,” Gabriel grinned, finally dropping his arm from around Castiel’s shoulders. “And a little bit of shopping.” 

“You comin’?” Dean asked, looking at Kali. She laughed lightly, touching her hair and tossing it over her shoulder. 

“No. My _wedding_ is tomorrow. I have other things to do. I just need you two to entertain _him_ for the day.” 

“Love you too, baby,” Gabriel grinned, kissing the back of her palm. 

“We’ll keep track of him,” Castiel smiled. 

“Or we’ll try to,” Dean added on with a laugh. 

“That!” Gabriel laughed, pointing at Dean and looking far too pleased with himself. Kali sighed and rolled her eyes, and Castiel couldn’t help feeling like he knew exactly what she was thinking. 

“I’ll see you tonight then,” Kali said, turning and disappearing towards the elevators. 

Gabriel watched her go, and Castiel smiled at the soft look on his brother’s face while she went. But it disappeared almost as fast as it arrived, and soon Gabriel was smirking at him again. 

“Ready, kids? We got BART to catch.” 

Gabriel strolled out the front doors without waiting for the two of them to follow, leaving a very confused Dean behind. 

“Hey, Cas? What’s a BART?” 

Castiel laughed and followed his brother, far too amused by the confusion on Dean’s face. 

The first place they went was the store for the suits. Gabriel had Castiel’s measurements, but this was the final fitting to make sure everything fit as it should. Gabriel also had him try on a couple of ties, all the same color of greenish blue, to see which he liked the most. The groomsmen, as per Kali’s request, wouldn’t all match exactly, so it gave Gabriel a little room to play around with things like ties and pocket squares. 

Castiel felt a little bit like Gabriel’s personal Ken doll, with pins all over his suit, but it wasn’t entirely terrible. The suit already fit him almost perfectly, and just required minor changes across the shoulders and at his waist. Still, seeing the look on Dean’s face when he emerged was pretty priceless. 

“Not _nearly_ good enough,” Gabriel had said as soon as Castiel was fully dressed, waving the tailor over and fussing over tiny details. 

Dean, however, took a couple of seconds to gather himself. His eyes widened and he shifted in his seat, offering a tiny, nervous smile before clearing his throat and tearing his eyes away. Castiel tried very hard not to laugh. 

“Who knew you were so big on fashion, eh Gabe?” he said, his laugh obviously forced. Gabriel gave him a look, then rolled his eyes and continued his fussing. 

“I know a thing or two about looking good, Dean-O. And my baby brother here is going to look _good_ at my wedding,” he said with a grin, clapping Castiel on the shoulder before stepping back to admire his work. He spun Castiel around so he was facing the mirror, Dean visible in the reflection behind him. “I want everybody there to do what you’re doing now.” 

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, and Castiel stifled a laugh. 

“What am I doing now?” he asked, crossing his arms. 

“Undressing him with your eyes.” 

Dean’s cheeks immediately flushed pink, and Castiel was so busy laughing he almost missed the wink that Gabriel gave him. Castiel was already thinking that him and Dean needed to spend more time with Gabriel, because watching Dean get thrown off balance like that was too fun. 

“I am not,” Dean grumbled, his mouth turning down in a frown. 

“Fine fine,” Gabriel sighed, straightening Castiel’s tie a little bit before smiling triumphantly. “Picturing him naked, fantasizing about all the nasty things you’re going to do to him later, _whatever_ you want to call it.” 

Castiel hadn’t thought that Dean’s blush could get any deeper, but there it was. He opened his mouth, probably to snap something back, but apparently decided better of it. 

“You’re done little bro,” Gabriel said to him, stepping back. “Get changed so Dean can have his brain back.” 

“You are such a dick,” Dean mumbled, hunching his shoulders angrily while Castiel just laughed again. 

Castiel turned away from the mirror and walked over to him, sliding his hands along Dean’s waist and reaching up to kiss him lightly. He barely responded, but that was okay. 

“You shouldn’t be so obvious if you don’t want him to point it out,” Castiel commented, his lips twitching up. Dean glared at him. 

“Shut up, skinny dude,” Dean said low and quiet, unfolding his crossed arms and grabbing Castiel by the back of the neck to kiss him thoroughly. “Go change.” 

Castiel hummed happily and kissed him one more time before disappearing into the dressing room to change, ignoring the look on Gabriel’s face. When he came back out a few minutes later the two of them were standing close together, obviously talking about something that Castiel wasn’t supposed to hear. The look on Dean’s face—and Gabe’s, for that matter—wasn’t anger, per say, but definitely discomfort and intensity. They stopped talking the second that Castiel emerged, immediately shifting apart. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Castiel asked suspiciously, eyeing them both. 

“Nope,” Gabriel said with a grin, getting an approving nod from Dean. “Just putting the fear of God in him. You know, old Novak tradition.” 

“Uh huh,” Castiel nodded, not buying their story for one second. 

“Anyway. Things to shop for!” Gabriel said excitedly, rushing out the door and onto their next destination. Dean just shrugged and followed him. 

Their next stop was a department store, and as soon as they were inside the front doors Gabriel split away from them. 

“Okay kids. I have honeymoon lingerie to buy and I do not need you two tagging along for that. Castiel, you find this boyfriend of yours something acceptable to wear. Don’t make me regret letting you pick. Capiche?” 

Castiel rolled his eyes, even as Gabriel started to walk backwards away from them. 

“Something hideous then. Of course.”

“Knew I could count on you, little bro,” Gabriel said with a wink, turning on the spot and hurrying away. 

When Gabriel was out of sight Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist, kissing along the back of his neck. 

“Hey boyfriend?” 

“Yes, Dean?” Castiel laughed, squirming in his grip. Something about this city or this trip or _something_ was making Dean far more affectionate than usual, and Castiel wasn’t opposed to any of it.

“Wanna go make out in the dressing rooms like a couple’a horny 14 year olds?” 

Castiel pondered that. It sounded like kind of a bad idea, but considering where they’d left things that morning…

“Sounds awfully risky. Why should we do that?” 

“Because you looked hot as hell in that suit,” Dean murmured, nibbling at Castiel’s earlobe. “And now that we’re semi-alone, I want to kiss you.” 

“We’re supposed to be buying you clothes.” 

“You think I didn’t bring nice stuff?” Dean laughed. “C’mon, man. Gimme a little credit. I’ll impress the fam, I swear.” 

“Promise?” Castiel said quietly, leaning into Dean’s frame. 

“Promise.” 

And that’s enough for Castiel to let Dean drag him down one of the aisles towards the dressing rooms tucked away in the corner. Dean already had his arm wrapped around Castiel’s shoulders when he peaked inside, checking for employees before they snuck in. The child-like excitement on Dean’s face was too much for Castiel to handle, and he started laughing as Dean tugged him through the doorway and immediately pushed him up against one of the wallpapered walls. 

“Quit laughing you’re gonna blow our cover,” Dean mumbled, but he was laughing too even as he tried and failed to shut Castiel up with a kiss. They were both smiling too much to actually fit their lips together. 

They were only there for thirty seconds or so before someone came around the corner and Dean leapt away from him, basically crashing into a rack of unwanted clothes in the process. Castiel stifled a laugh behind his hand, trying to stand up straight and not look suspicious. 

“Um, hi?” the sales girl said, raising her eyebrows as she looked back and forth between them. She looked rather bored, and like she kind of wasn’t interested in whatever they were doing. “Can I help you guys?” 

Castiel’s eyes went wide and he looked at Dean, waiting for some kind of response. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said with a flirty grin, and Castiel had to roll his eyes. Dean groped around on the clothing rack for a second before pulling out a random hanger that he managed to get his hands on. “My friend here just wants to try this on.” 

The girl looked at Castiel for verification, and he nodded his head and rolled his lips between his teeth to stop from laughing. 

“Yes, please. Just that.” 

“Okay then,” the girl said, still sounding skeptical. She walked past them and unlocked one of the doors, hooking a small number one over the back of it. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dean said with a wink, ushering Castiel into the dressing room and closing the door behind them. The girl wandered off before the door even closed, which was probably a good thing. 

Dean smothered him immediately, kissing up the side of his neck and winding his fingers into Castiel’s hair. Castiel returned the favor, hungrily kissing and nipping at Dean’s lips. 

“Your friend, huh?” Castiel teased, already panting a little bit. 

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled, pressing harder into the kiss. “You think she’d’ve let us in here if I said ‘my boyfriend wants to try this on, and I’m gonna watch’?” 

“Maybe not,” Castiel agreed with a happy sigh. “And who says you get to watch?” 

“It’s on, dude,” Dean laughed. “Wasn’t gonna make you try it on, but now I _definitely_ am.” 

They stayed in there, kissing each other senseless, for longer than they should have and definitely longer than it took to try on one sweater. But the girl didn’t come back to bother them, which was a blessing. It was Castiel who finally pulled them apart, and only because he was pretty sure he was going to explode from the tension if it didn’t release soon. And now was _not_ the time for any kind of release. 

“I am going to spend _hours_ with you on that huge bed,” Dean grumbled when he finally pulled away, pressing one last searing kiss to Castiel’s lips. “ _Hours.”_

“We should probably finish here and get back then,” Castiel laughed, pulling Dean’s hands off of his waist. Before he could even put a hand on the door handle, Dean was stopping him. 

“Wait wait,” he said, holding up the hanger that he’d grabbed with a cocky grin. “You gotta try it on.” 

The sweater on the hanger was two sizes too big, at _least._ It was dark grey, and it had tiny flecks of color on it that looked a little bit like a rainbow got sick all over it. It was chunky and square shaped too, and Castiel couldn’t help but think that Dean had picked the least flattering item off of the rack. 

“Really?” he sighed, crossing his arms. 

“Really.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt off, trying to ignore the way Dean’s eyes skimmed over his chest. It made his skin feel hot, and they really did need to get out of this dressing room. 

The sweater, when he pulled it on, was surprisingly soft. It hung off of him, the wide neckline barely hanging on to his shoulder and exposing his neck and collarbone. It was boxy and hung down past his hips, and he actually…kind of liked it. 

“What the hell, man,” Dean grumbled, dragging his hands over his face. “Not cool.” 

Castiel tilted his head, looking at Dean in the mirror. 

“What?” 

Dean stepped forward so that his chest was pressed against Castiel’s back, resting his chin on his shoulder and slipping his hands underneath the hem of the sweater to rest of Castiel’s stomach. 

“That is the ugliest friggin’ sweater I’ve ever seen. And I want to tear it off of you.” 

“Is that a good thing?” Castiel laughed. 

_Maybe the sweater isn’t so bad_. 

“Shit yes,” Dean groaned. Then he laughed and backed away, dragging his hands through his hair again. “We gotta get out of here.”

“Agreed,” Castiel laughed, pulling off the sweater and putting his own shirt back on. “Come on.” 

“Gimme a few minutes,” Dean sighed, sinking down onto the small seat that was attached to the wall. “I’ll meet you guys.” 

Castiel laughed and left the dressing room, leaving Dean behind to gather himself. He felt a faint swell of pride as he did, sort of pleased with himself for rattling him so much. 

Gabriel didn’t seem pleased when Castiel found him and he didn’t have any bags, but he barely had a chance to start explaining before Dean joined them. He had a bag in hand, full of _what_ Castiel had no idea, and that seemed to placate Gabriel. Castiel gave him a questioning look about the bag, but Dean just responded with a subtle wink and a grin. 

“Back to the hotel motel?” Gabriel said, wiggling his eyebrows. “It’s almost time to see Mommy again, Castiel.”

Castiel groaned. Gabriel was right. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the rehearsal dinner would be starting all too soon. So not only would he be seeing his mom again, but also his brothers and his cousins and family friends and a whole host of people he’d hoped to never see again. 

“Great. Can’t wait.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that really nothing happened, but I'm letting these two steep a little bit right now before things get real plotty. Small things are happening, and hopefully we'll have some action if the Novak's decide to finally come out and play. We shall see.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not a baby, Dean,” Castiel retorted, poking his chest. Dean laughed harder. 
> 
> “No, you’re not. You’re six feet of hot and I intend to familiarize myself with every inch,” Dean said with a flirty grin, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Sound good?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that summary is misleading, because I actually didn't write any sexytimes in this chapter. I fully intended to write sexytimes, and I wrote angst instead. Shit. BUT. It's twice as long as a normal update, AGAIN, so I guess this is my penance for taking so long to update. 
> 
> Also, note to self, never ever write an entire wedding weekend ever again. I hope y'all aren't getting sick of it, but I promise the next chapter will be the end of it. It took way more words than I anticipated, obviously. After next chapter we will return to our regularly scheduled college life. Anywhos, I hope you enjoy it! Loves y'all for sticking with me through all the crazy updating, it means so so much. Turns out being a grad student isn't exactly conducive to creative activities. Who knew.

By the time they found food and got back to the hotel, Dean and Castiel had far less time in the room than they would have liked. Castiel only managed to coax Dean away from pulling his clothes off by promising a rain-check on the hours Dean wanted to spend in bed together. 

“Just think,” Castiel said when they got back, dragging Dean’s hands off his waist, “we’re about to spend an entire evening with my extended family. And nothing makes me want to jump my boyfriend’s bones like my mother.” 

Dean groaned and face planted into the bed. 

“I’m gonna act like that wasn’t sarcastic.” 

Castiel sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, adjusting his glasses and running a nervous hand through his hair. It had been more than a while since he’d seen his mom, his brothers, his cousins, uncles and aunts and everybody else. And it certainly hadn’t been an accident. With few exceptions, the Novak’s were not a fun bunch. And this was not going to be a fun evening. 

So caught up in his thoughts, Castiel didn’t even notice that Dean had stood up until he was pulling on Castiel’s wrists. 

“C’mon. Let’s take a shower.” 

“Didn’t we decide that doing it all the time would spoil the fun?” 

“No,” Dean grinned, “you decided that. I’m convinced I can change your mind.” 

Castiel half wanted to protest, but he only got as far as a petulant frown before Dean was dragging him into the bathroom. He didn’t help much with the removal of clothes, but he was so distracted by the prospect of the evening that everything else around him blurred. 

“Hey angel, you okay?” Dean asked, cutting through the buzz of Castiel’s mind as his hand carefully pushed Castiel’s mop of wet hair off of his forehead. 

“Not really?” he admitted, leaning into the bracket of Dean’s arms. 

“You’re freakin’ out a little bit on me.” 

“I know.”

Dean was quiet for a minute, carefully leaning Castiel away from his chest and massaging some shampoo into his hair. Castiel’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the careful touches of his fingers, trying to let them distract him from his thoughts. 

“What are you so worried about?” Dean asked, his voice low and quiet. 

“My mother she…has a lot of influence. I’m not overly fond of walking back into her clutches.” 

“What do you think she’s gonna do?” 

Castiel took a moment to think as Dean turned so Castiel was standing under the spray. He carefully rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, pushing the suds away from his eyes as Castiel stood and chewed his lip. 

“I don’t know. She did everything she could to keep me out of UCLA. If I hadn’t gotten a scholarship, she would have succeeded.” 

“You’re on scholarship?” Dean asked, turning again and massaging Castiel’s scalp with conditioner. 

“Mmmm,” Castiel hummed, closing his eyes again. The rational part of him knew his mom couldn’t do anything, but the irrational part was thrown right back into his 18-year-old mentality of fearing his mother’s convictions. 

“So that’s why you study so much.” 

“I do not study _so much,”_ Castiel grumbled. Dean grinned and pushed both hands into Castiel’s hair, his eyes flitting up to the top of his head as he pushed the dark locks into some kind of mohawk. 

“You’re totally a nerd, dude,” Dean laughed. “But don’t worry. I kinda like you.” 

“Kinda?” Castiel raised an eyebrow, winding his arms around Dean’s waist. “I’m sorry, but _kinda_ is a little too serious for me. I think we might need to take some time apart—”

“Shut up,” Dean said with a grin, cutting him off with a warm kiss. Castiel smiled back against his lips. “Y’know everything is gonna be fine, right?”

Castiel wasn’t sure how Dean knew the words to say, or if he’d just gotten lucky, but somehow that one phrase managed to settle some of the uneasiness in his gut. 

“Sure.” 

His smile felt a little weak, but it was better. It wouldn’t be the most fun night ever, but Castiel was pretty sure he could handle it. 

Although, he was forced to question the relative easiness of the evening when Dean finally emerged from the bathroom fully dressed and ready to go. The actual wedding would be held at a country club outside of the city, but the rehearsal dinner was being held at the hotel in their largest and snootiest ballroom. The attire was semiformal, tie required but jackets optional, and Castiel had taken advantage. He went with dark grey pants, a tailored black button up, and a thin black tie. He didn’t know what Dean would put on until he came out of the bathroom, and Castiel found himself wishing he’d had some kind of warning. 

Dean had put on black slacks that fit him sinfully well, showing off the curve of his legs, a white shirt with a black tie, and a dark grey sweater with a deep v-neck. His hair was carefully tousled, and Castiel knew Dean must’ve spent at least a little bit of time on the effortless look he had going. 

The whole thing all together really wasn’t fair. All Castiel could think about was running his hands over the fabric that was hugging Dean’s body and he knew that wouldn’t be productive. It was, of course, impossible to forget how attractive Dean was but it was moments like these when Castiel was floored with just how beautiful he was. 

“Shit,” Castiel said quietly, a small breath that barely escaped his mouth. Dean still heard him. 

“Told ya I’d be fine,” Dean chuckled, glancing up at Castiel’s face and fiddling with his sleeve for a second. “You like?” 

“Yes,” Castiel said, _far_ too quickly. Dean noticed that too. 

“Yeah?” he said, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he slowly padded across the room until there were bare centimeters between them. He slid his hands into his pockets and waited, and Castiel did everything in his power to keep his hands at his sides. 

_Focus. Jesus_. 

“You look very nice Dean.” 

Dean’s smile grew. _Shit shit shit._

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. 

“Uh huh,” Castiel said distractedly. God Dean’s eyes were so _green_. Had they always been that green? And there were definitely some extra freckles across his nose. That one by the corner of his eye was definitely new. And the one right above the bow of his lip, that was new. He would definitely need to kiss that one. Maybe he should recount the freckles across his nose, see how many new ones there were, or maybe he would count the galaxies on his temples, or—

“Angel,” Dean said softly, amusement in his voice. “We don’t have time for you to count all 70 of my freckles. You can stare at me when we get back, huh?” he added with a wink, but Castiel caught the genuine affection underneath his voice. 

Castiel thought about correcting him, because there had definitely been only 62 freckles on his nose last time he’d counted, not 70. But then there were some new ones, so maybe there was 70 of them now. 

So instead of responding Castiel raised his hands to Dean’s face, cupping the corners of his jaw and kissing him purposefully. Dean melted into it a little bit, and Castiel took pleasure in stealing his breath away. 

***

They were far from the first ones to arrive at the rehearsal dinner. The room was already buzzing with conversation and activity when they arrived, but most of Castiel’s immediate family seemed to be absent. Of course Gabe and Kali were there, floating around as a pair and graciously and politely thanking each of their guests for attending. But Michael and Luke didn’t appear to have arrived, and neither did Naomi. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. He could deal with them all as they arrived, in small doses, instead of all at once. 

“Castiel!” a voice said from behind him, nasally in an all too familiar way. Castiel smiled and turned towards the voice, not missing how Dean gravitated slightly closer to him. 

“Metatron,” Castiel said with all the smile he could muster. His uncle may have been far from his favorite member of the family, but he was also far from the worst one. He was short and rather round in shape, his cheeks covered in several days of scruff and his short, curly hair sprinkled with more grey than Castiel remembered. He had on a frumpy looking sweater and no tie, and Castiel was sure that Gabe had already given him a talking to about it.

“So _good_ to see you,” he said, his perceptive eyes taking in the slim amount of space between where Dean stood and Castiel stood. “Might I venture a guess that this is your date?” 

He wiggled his eyebrows a little bit, and Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Yes, this is Dean. Dean, my uncle Metatron.” 

Dean smiled charismatically and shook Metatron’s hand, his other hand coming to rest at the small of Castiel’s back. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said calmly. Metatron grinned deliciously. 

“Very nice indeed. And so _interesting_.” 

Dean gave Castiel a look that said he had no idea what Metatron was talking about, and Castiel couldn’t exactly disagree. His uncle was just weird sometimes. 

“Of course,” Castiel said carefully. “It has been too long.” 

“Too true, Castiel!” Metatron laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Too true! But you aren’t the only one who’s been hidden away from prying eyes,” he winked. “Not all of us want to be found.” 

And with that he wandered off, leaving a very confused Dean and an only slightly less confused Castiel behind. 

“Uh,” Dean said, opening his mouth to speak before getting interrupted. 

“Would you look who it is,” another voice said, female this time. Castiel turned again towards the sound. There were two blonde women standing off to his side, pinched looks on both of their faces, blonde hair pinned up out of the way. One was slightly taller and slightly older than the other, and neither of them looked that happy to see him. 

“Hester, Rachel,” Castiel said, nodding his head towards them. 

“We had been told you were here with a man,” Rachel said, her eyes flicking down to Dean’s feet and back up. “And yet I am surprised.” 

Castiel didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. He’d expected this, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. 

“Don’t worry about introducing yourselves, you can jump right in to making judgements about my personal life,” Castiel said icily. “But yes, this is my boyfriend Dean. Dean, these are my eldest cousins Rachel and Hester.” 

Dean’s smile was much tighter this time, and he didn’t reach out a hand to shake. “Girls.” 

Hester flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled sarcastically, her lips tight. 

“How is UCLA, by the way?” she asked, somehow managing to make the name sound dirty as it rolled off her tongue. “You’ve been gone so long, I imagine there is a lot we don’t know.” 

“There is. I wouldn’t want to bore you,” Castiel said, his tone clipped. “If you’ll excuse us, I think we’ll find our seats.” 

Castiel took Dean’s hand and tugged him away, having no clue where they were supposed to sit but not interested in standing around and waiting to find out. Luckily Dean followed without question, squeezing his hand reassuringly. 

“Starting to think I’m just making this worse for you.” 

“You’re not,” Castiel replied, weaving around chairs looking for his name card. “They would find something to pick at, regardless of whether or not you were here.” 

Dean stopped walking abruptly, tugging on Castiel’s hand and turning him until they were standing face to face. Castiel stared at the floor, frustration building in his chest. 

“Hey,” Dean said quietly, tilting his chin up with one finger. “Look at me. Breathe.” 

Castiel inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

“I’m fine, Dean.” 

“No, you’re not. Don’t let them rattle you. Scream and break stuff later. But right now, be better than them.” 

Castiel’s lips twitched up. “Is that what you do?” 

“Sure,” Dean smiled. “Now c’mon. I bet we’re over there, and I think you could use a drink.” 

Dean led the way over to a rectangular table towards the front of the room, where Castiel finally found both of their name cards proudly displayed. He didn’t need to see the others to know that the seats would be reserved for his mother and brothers, but he did anyway. Once he was seated Dean wandered off to the bar to find drinks, and Castiel was glad for the brief moment to gather himself. And it was brief, only a bare few seconds before a soft hand touched his shoulder. 

“Castiel?” 

He turned around to see who it was, immediately standing up when he saw a familiar brunette. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, her bangs cut across her forehead. She had on a simple blue dress and heels, and Castiel immediately felt a flood of guilt for feeling like he barely recognized her. 

“Hannah,” he breathed, trying and failing to smile at her. “Hello.” 

“Long time no see?” she said, her voice pitching up at the end like she was asking a question. 

“I suppose so,” he said, shifting on his feet and adjusting his glasses. “How have you been? Are you still at Berkeley?” 

She looked surprised for a moment, like she hadn’t expected him to know that’s where she’d been.

“I am,” she smiled. “Are you still at UCLA?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. “I love it.” 

“I would ask if it’s going well, but it’s you. Of course it’s going well.” 

Castiel had no idea how to respond to that. Her eyes were soft and the quiet smile on her face was genuine, and it felt all too much like that night three years ago. His stomach dropped at the thought. 

“I’m sure the same is true for you at Berkeley,” he tried, taking a small step backwards when he noticed how little space was between them. It felt stifling, overflowing with too much time and distance. They weren’t friends anymore, not like they had once been, and as sad as that was Castiel couldn’t even see remnants of threads leftover. 

“You look different,” Hannah said, tilting her head slightly to the side and surveying him. “More mature. It looks good on you, though. You look good.” 

Castiel willed himself not to blush. 

There had been a time when Hannah didn’t look at him like that, when they were just high school friends and nothing more, but something had changed. For her. Occasionally Castiel got a flash of nostalgia for those days, but it took moving to LA, meeting Anna and her friends, meeting _Dean_ and his friends, for Castiel to realize that Hannah had never really been good for him. Even before she professed her feelings. 

“Um, thank you, Hannah, but—”

Castiel was saved from whatever lame excuse was about to come out of his mouth by a familiar arm wrapping around his shoulders and the smell of car oil and leather surrounding him. Even though Dean hadn’t been to the garage in a couple days he still smelled like it and Castiel still loved it. 

“Hey baby,” Dean practically purred, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s temple and using the arm around his shoulders to pull him close. Castiel rolled his eyes. 

_Possessive bastard. Since when do you call me baby?_

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel sighed, leaning into his warmth even as he was rolling his eyes at the behavior. Just because it was transparent didn’t mean Castiel didn’t enjoy it. “This is Hannah, an old friend.” 

Hannah’s expression was not a happy one, but she faked a smile anyway. “And you are?” 

“His boyfriend,” Dean grinned, cocky as always. “Nice t’meet ya.” 

Hannah’s gaze flicked over to Dean, then lingered on Castiel’s face for a moment before she spoke. 

“Of course. I’ll leave you. It was nice seeing you, Castiel.” 

And with that she disappeared, apparently thoroughly discouraged. Castiel was glad. As soon as she was out of earshot he slipped out from under Dean’s arm, staring at him with raised eyebrows. 

“Baby? Really?” 

“What, you don’t like that one?” Dean laughed, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist. Castiel just made a face. “So you don’t mind Chewie, or angel, or skinny dude, but you mind baby?” 

“I’m not a baby, Dean,” Castiel retorted, poking his chest. Dean laughed harder. 

“No, you’re not. You’re six feet of hot and I intend to familiarize myself with every inch,” Dean said with a flirty grin, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Sound good?” 

“Sounds terrible,” Castiel grumbled. “It is far too early in the evening for you to be giving me ideas.” 

“I’m not sorry at all.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes.

They had a few minutes of peace then, both of them sipping on the drinks that Dean had snagged from the bar. Castiel generally wasn’t a fan of scotch, but it burned down his throat and made him feel not quite so heavy, so he kept drinking it. The peace was, again, short-lived, and before Castiel was really prepared for it he spotted his mother making her way across the room, Michael and Luke along with two women in tow. 

Naomi was wearing, as was her usual preference, a neatly tailored suit with her hair pinned up perfectly. She held her chin high, and somehow managed to look down her nose at everyone else in the room. As soon as her gaze fell on Castiel, he was reminded just how terrible it felt to be pinned down by her eyes. Luke was dressed in a sharp, dark grey suit with a red tie, accompanied by a tall blonde woman in a tight dress and skyscraper heels. The sneer on his face when he spotted Castiel really completed the look. Michael was less conspicuous, dressed in a traditional black and white suit with a petite brunette on his arm. He looked more bored than anything else, and the lack of expression when he saw Castiel was actually quite welcome. 

Castiel thought for about two seconds about standing up when they arrived at the table, but decided better of it. They didn’t deserve it. 

“The prodigal son returns,” Luke said, the first of the group to speak. Before Castiel could even think to respond Naomi was cutting him off. 

“Enough. This is a day of celebration.” She turned to Castiel, a smile spreading across her face that may have looked harmless to anyone who didn’t know her. Castiel knew better. Luke scoffed. “Hello, Castiel.” 

Castiel almost flinched. 

“Mother.” 

“Hello, brother,” Luke sneered, taking a seat next to Naomi on the opposite side of the table. “Kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

“My pleasure,” Castiel replied, gritting his teeth. Dean’s hand touched his knee under the table, and Castiel could feel the tension in his fingers. 

“Nice to see you, Castiel,” Michael sighed, sitting down on Naomi’s other side. Castiel nodded in response. 

“Who is your friend?” Naomi asked, her fingers steepled under her chin. Castiel gave her a look, but she just raised her eyebrows and waited for a response. She _knew_ who Dean was, he was sure, and she was definitely doing this on purpose to make him feel small. Her favorite tactic. 

“This is Dean, and he is my _boyfriend_ , mother. As you well know.” 

Naomi hummed and waved a hand, like the distinction was a detail she couldn’t be bothered with. “I have to say, Castiel, I never expected this phase of yours to persist for this long. I suspect it will end soon, though, don’t you?” 

There was a threatening edge to her voice, so subtle that Castiel couldn’t even be sure that Dean had heard it. But he knew. 

“It isn’t a _phase_ , just like my photography isn’t a _phase_. No matter how much you might wish otherwise.” 

Silence fell across the table, Naomi’s eyebrows creeping up and her lips pressing into a thin line. Castiel knew he was pushing it with her so early in the evening, but he had no patience for her attitude. Not anymore. 

Thankfully, Gabriel appeared at the table before she could open her mouth. 

“Are we fighting already, family?” he said with a grin, placing one hand on each Castiel and Dean’s shoulders. “Tsk tsk. It’s my wedding! We should be drinking and being merry. Don’t you agree, Luci?” 

“Your wedding is tomorrow, brother,” Michael said with a sigh, cutting off the angry retort Luke was surely about to spit out. Instead he puffed up and crossed his arms, glaring at Gabe. 

“Details,” Gabe said, waving a hand. “I want no blood spilled this weekend.” 

“Of course,” Naomi said with a smile. Her gaze fixed back on Castiel, her eyes dark and unreadable. He didn’t trust her for a second. 

“So,” Dean said, clearing his throat after Gabriel walked away to find Kali. “Michael, Luke, why don’t you introduce us to these two lovely ladies?” 

Castiel let some of the breath out of his lungs, thankful for Dean’s presence right at that moment. 

“My girlfriend, Hael,” Michael said, gesturing at the brunette at his side. She offered a quiet “hello”, but otherwise kept quiet. Castiel wasn’t surprised. Submissive was Michael’s type. 

“Lilith,” the blonde next to Luke said, her smile somewhat like that of a shark. 

“My fiancee,” Luke added, touching a finger to the underside of her chin. It was possessive, and not in the warm way that Dean sometimes was. It made Castiel shiver. 

“And how’d you lovebirds meet?” Dean asked, gesturing between the two of them. Castiel gave him a look, but Dean just smiled and waited. 

“Lilith was an intern at my firm,” Luke said, cracking his neck and leveling his gaze at Dean. 

“Isn’t that like, some kinda lawsuit waiting to happen?” 

Silence fell at the table again, and Castiel had to physically cover his mouth to stifle his laughter. Luke looked positively _murderous_. 

“Our relationship did not begin until after she was out of my employment, I assure you,” Luke replied, the grinding of his teeth almost audible. Lilith was glaring now too. 

“Hey, you’re the lawyer, dude. Not me,” Dean grinned, leaning back in his seat and taking a slow sip of his scotch. Castiel couldn’t have been more proud. 

“You’re right. I am. Remind us what it is you do, Dean?” Luke asked, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“Fix cars,” Dean said casually, unconcerned. 

“And what a noble profession it is.” 

“Next time your fancy ass luxury sedan breaks down, you lemme know how noble it is.” 

The grin on Dean’s face never faltered, and he even went so far as to smooth a hand across the top of Castiel’s back. Castiel’s lips twitched up as Luke continued to glare, and he leaned slightly towards Dean. 

Meanwhile, Naomi was watching Dean carefully. Her silence was concerning, but Castiel knew she would speak when she felt so inclined. Silence stretched for a few seconds while the stare down between the two of them continued, right up until Gabriel reappeared with Kali. 

“Getting along, I hope?” he grinned, sitting down on Castiel’s right with Kali on his other side. 

“Absolutely,” Castiel said calmly, purposefully looking at his mother. Her smile twitched. 

“You know, little bro, that’s what I love about you. Your absolute obliviousness.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes, while Dean laughed and Kali smacked his shoulder. 

The first course of dinner was served shortly after that, a small salad with some kind of fruit vinaigrette. Dean gave him a look when it arrived, but ate it anyway. Conversation flowed somewhat stiltedly, mostly between the other people at the table. Castiel was content to exchange weighted looks with Dean while everyone else talked. Occasionally Gabriel or Michael would address Castiel directly, but Luke seemed determined to ignore his presence and Naomi was still conspicuously quiet. 

The main course was ribeye with some kind of fancy marinade and unidentifiable sides that Castiel didn’t care to ask after. He’d gotten used to his fair share of gourmet dining growing up as a Novak, and had learned to just eat and not question. Dean, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as trusting. He did seem pleased with the steak though. 

Between dinner and dessert Dean and Michael got to talking, and actually seemed to get along quite well. Dean was more than a little interested in Michael’s work as a surgeon, and every once in a while Hael would proudly offer up details that Michael seemed unconcerned to include about the long hours and the countless lives he’d saved. Gabriel offered up his own stories from his pediatric office, and Kali added on about his habit of stealing the kids’ lollipops that were kept in the rooms. For about twenty minutes dinner wasn’t terrible, and Castiel was happy to see Dean getting along with at least _some_ of his family. Not that it would matter much after this weekend. 

It was right after dessert got dropped off that Naomi apparently decided it was her turn to weigh in. 

“Here are your brothers, changing lives. And what are you doing, Castiel?” 

She said it quietly, calmly, like it was just another part of the conversation. Silence fell so fast that Castiel was surprised the rest of the table didn’t get whiplash. 

“Excuse me?” Castiel said, carefully keeping his voice even. 

“My son, the photographer. Taking his work home to his _bed_ ,” she said, her voice pure ice, not even bothering to glance at Dean as she said it. Like even looking at him was beneath her. “I wonder where I went wrong, when you became lost to us.” 

No one had a witty retort, not even Gabriel. Castiel’s chest felt tight with anger and embarrassment, and it was all he could do not to storm out of the ballroom right then. Instead he took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, trying his best to hold his head high. 

“I was never lost, _Mother,”_ he spat. “I’ve always been just like Dad. And the both of us, we just needed to get away from _you.”_

The silence at the table was so complete, Castiel wasn’t sure how the rest of the ballroom hadn’t noticed. But they didn’t, they went about their meals like nothing was happening. 

“How dare you,” Naomi said quietly, her voice eerily calm. 

“I’m the gay fuck-up, remember?” Castiel said calmly, his voice alien in his own ears. “Are you surprised?” 

And with that he stood up, carefully placing his napkin on his chair and stepping away from the table like absolutely nothing was wrong. He offered Gabriel and Kali a tiny nod and a congratulations, promising to see them bright and early in the morning. Then he strolled out of the ballroom, not waiting for Dean to follow. He couldn’t be in that room for one more second. 

He maintained his calm right up until he made it inside his and Dean’s room. 

_Don’t let them rattle you. Scream and break stuff later. Don’t let them rattle you. Scream and break stuff later. Don’t let them rattle you. Scream and break stuff later. Don’t let them—_

As soon as the door to his room closed he slammed his open palms on the heavy wood, resisting the urge to scream. Instead he grabbed the pillows off of their bed and flung them towards the huge windows, pushed the heavy lamp off of the nightstand and listened as it landed on the carpet with a satisfying thud. But it wasn’t enough. His blood was boiling, and he had no idea how to make it stop. 

Castiel collapsed on the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his cheek on the soft carpet. The floor was hard and he was uncomfortable, so it was perfect. 

It was only a few minutes later that the door opened and Dean walked in, followed by the clinking sounds of glass bottles. 

“Hey, angel, stand up. Come with me.” 

Castiel made some kind of noise, which he hoped would translate as “no”. 

“Not an option. I’ll carry you if I have to, but I’d rather not. You’re not that skinny.” 

Castiel snorted and kept laying on the floor. He was pretty sure if he laid here long enough that he anger and everything else would melt away, so that was his plan. 

“Fine,” Dean sighed, pulling on Castiel’s wrists until he was at least sitting up, starting to wrap his arm around Castiel’s waist. 

“God damnit, Dean,” Castiel snapped, shoving him away. “I can walk.” 

“Good,” Dean smiled, ruffling his hair. Castiel glared at him and pushed him away again. “I didn’t want to have to carry you.” 

“Carry me where?” Castiel said, crossing his arms. He was not in the mood for this. 

“You’ll see. Do you trust me?” 

_No. Maybe. Yes. I don’t know._

Castiel didn’t answer. 

“Just come with me. Please.” 

Castiel squinted at him. “Fine.” 

Dean led him out of the hotel and out into the city, a paper bag full of clinking glass bottles in his arms. Castiel was hoping it was alcohol. He kept his arms crossed and a scowl on his face while they walked, still pissed that Dean made him abandon his plan of lying on the floor until he felt better. 

When they got outside Dean walked a couple of blocks before leading him down what looked like a dead-end alleyway. The buildings on either side didn’t seem currently occupied, either. 

“Are you going to murder me?” Castiel asked. “Because I don’t think I would object right now.” 

“Shut up,” Dean sighed, giving him a look. “I told you, scream and break shit later. Since you seemed pretty tuckered out trying to break shit in our hotel room, thought I’d give you something a little more destructible.” 

Castiel raised his eyebrows and waited, watching as Dean reached into the paper bag and pulled out a full beer bottle. He put the bottle in Castiel’s hand and pointed down the alleyway, towards the brick wall at the opposite end. 

“Go nuts.” 

“Um. What?” Castiel asked, staring at the bottle in his hand and at the wall in front of him. 

“Throw it. Hard as you can.” 

“Why would I do that?” 

Dean sighed and laughed. “Dude. Just trust me. Throw it.” 

Castiel stared at him for a couple more seconds before deciding to just give in. If it might help…

He turned towards the wall and threw as hard as he could, and as soon as the bottle left his fingers he knew that Dean had been right. It smashed against the wall with a satisfying sound of shattering glass, echoing in the empty alleyway and taking just a little bit of Castiel’s bad mood with it.  


“Holy shit,” he mumbled, glancing at Dean who was grinning back at him. 

“Told ya. Try again, and yell this time.” 

“Yell what?” Castiel asked, taking another bottle from Dean. “Where’d you get these, by the way?” 

“Dunno. Anything. Scream at your family, whatever. And I stole them from the bar. Figured your mom would be payin’ for them, so it felt okay,” he said with a wink, crossing his arms across his chest.  

_God I love you._

He wanted to say it out loud, but he didn’t. Now wasn’t the time. 

This time when he reached back and threw, he yelled the first thing to come to mind. 

“For Lucifer being a pompous _ass,”_ he said, conscious of how loud his voice was and tempering his yell. The bottle felt even better when it exploded against the wall. 

“Louder!” Dean laughed, handing him another bottle. 

He was braver this time, a little bit louder. 

“For Rachel and Hester being complete bitches!” 

“Louder!” 

“For Metatron being a confusing weirdo!”

Dean laughed at that before handing him another bottle. “Louder!” 

Castiel was really screaming by now, and his shoulder protested when he flung the bottles, but he didn’t care.

“For my entire fucking family being snobby, rich, assholes!” 

“Louder!” 

“For every fucking homophobic fuck who told me I was _wrong!”_

He felt hot tears run down his face, but they didn’t blur his vision or fog up his glasses. They felt _good_ , like all of this shit was leaving his system. 

“For my motherfucking _mother_ , who has never been a goddamn mother for a single day in my entire fucking _life!”_

“For every single person who told me I couldn’t be what I wanted to be!” 

“For all the shitty things my own fucking _mom_ did to stop me from going to college!” 

“For every time she fucking made me feel like I was _nothing_ , like I was fucking _nothing_ to her!” 

“For my _father_ , for not giving a _shit_ about his own kids and _leaving me!”_  

Castiel’s voice broke and he spun to grab another bottle from Dean, deciding that that one definitely deserved two bottles. 

“That’s it, baby,” Dean said, holding open empty arms. “That’s all I got.” 

Castiel flung himself into Dean’s arms, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face there. Dean’s arms came around him automatically, and he felt lips and fingers in his hair. Dean didn’t say anything, and for that Castiel was grateful. He cried against his shirt for a couple of minutes, right up until his tears dried on his cheeks. He felt lighter, despite the tears. 

“I’m not a baby, Dean. I told you that,” he said eventually, sniffing and pulling back to look into Dean’s green eyes. He chuckled in response. 

“I know, I know. Sue me.” 

Castiel kissed him instead, warm and slow. 

“Thank you, Dean. Really.” 

His cheeks flushed a tiny bit pink, and Castiel wished he had more than just the sparse light of the street lamps to see it. 

‘’I got one more thing,” Dean said with a sneaky grin, pulling away and reaching into the paper bag. He pulled out a bottle of scotch, one of the expensive ones. “Shall we?” 

***

They didn’t crack the scotch until they were back in the hotel room, because pesky open container laws and neither of them was trying to get arrested the night before Gabriel’s wedding. Castiel stripped out of his fancy clothes right away and threw on a t-shirt with his boxers, convincing Dean to stay bare-chested. 

Castiel sat at the head of the bed with his back resting against the headboard and Dean laying between his outstretched legs, back resting against Castiel’s chest. _Titanic_ was on again, so they put it on and passed the bottle back and forth. They started out drinking casually, which rapidly turned into Castiel drinking every time someone said Rose’s name and Dean drinking every time someone said Jack’s name. 

They didn’t make it very far. 

Sometime before the boat even hit the iceberg Castiel fell asleep, long after he’d started to slur his words. He was warm with alcohol and the heat of Dean’s body, and he actually felt pretty okay, all things considered. He woke up briefly when someone knocked on the door, and a very grumbly Dean stood up to answer it. The voices where blurred, but he was pretty sure it was Gabriel at the door. 

_“How…he?”_

_“…now, not as…before. Tomorrow…”_

_“I know…sorry…not okay.”_

_“What if…again?”_

_“…won’t let…take care…okay?”_

_“Yeah…me neither.”_

_“…’ber…I said…”_

_“Yeah…not…don’t know.”_

Castiel tried to focus on the words, but they were so far away and he was already drifting back to sleep. He managed to stay semi-conscious until Dean was back in bed with him, and he could curl into his wonderful smelling warmth. 

“S’that?” Castiel tried, his tongue decidedly not cooperating. 

“Brother,” Dean mumbled, pulling Castiel closer against his chest. “Sleep now.”

Castiel hummed, and Dean was snoring before he could even respond. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be known that the author does not condone littering in the form of smashing beer bottles in empty alleyways. The author does think this is a good cathartic exercise, though.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now I’m gonna have to keep my hands on you all night.” 
> 
> “Oh, perfect. That will certainly piss off my mother. She hates PDA.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, as always, so sorry that this took so long. I promise this is finally the end of the wedding weekend! 
> 
> Your guys' patience is so so incredible, thank you for putting up with me. And happy April fools day?? I guess??

Castiel’s embarrassment over his behavior hit him right as he was waking up the next morning. He could tell by the grayish quality of light that was coming through the windows that it was early still, and he hoped that there was time before Gabriel came to retrieve him. 

Dean was sprawled out on his back, one arm wrapped underneath Castiel’s shoulders and hanging low on his waist. Castiel’s back was pressed up against his side, Dean’s face tilted towards him and still slack with sleep. The only pillows on the bed were the two that Dean had picked up off the floor the night before, and Castiel’s stomach twisted at the sight of the other pillows and the lamp on the ground. 

He had definitely let his emotions get the best of him the night before, and we wasn’t super proud that Dean had been there to see it all. Better him than Naomi, but still. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, but there was one thing he could do to put it behind them. And he definitely owed Dean that rain-check. 

Castiel’s movements were slow and careful, so as not to wake the sleeping Dean. He carefully pushed the comforter to the foot of the bed and straddled Dean’s thighs, carefully hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his boxer briefs and sliding them down as best he could to free Dean’s dick. It was soft now, but Castiel was fairly certain that would be easy to fix. He bent low and pressed a careful kiss to the soft skin of Dean’s stomach, smiling at the soft sigh that escaped Dean’s mouth when he traced the line of his dick with the tip of his tongue. A few more kisses and licks and Dean’s cock was up and awake. Now all he had to do was wake Dean. 

He carefully fit his lips over the head, not missing the quiet groan when his tongue flicked across the slit. Slowly he lowered his mouth, working his hand at the base and focusing his tongue on the bundle of nerves underneath the head. Dean was slowly waking up as he worked, his body responding but his mind clearly not completely out of the haze of sleep quite yet. Castiel peeked up through his eyelashes at him, humming happily at Dean’s arched back and parted lips. 

“Wha…” Dean croaked, his hand coming to the back of Castiel’s head, “…ah…at’re you doin’?”

A particularly loud moan escaped his lips, and Castiel popped off with a heated smile. 

“Good. You’re awake.” 

Dean blinked at him, and before he could even respond Castiel swallowed him down again, taking as much into his mouth as he could. 

“Fuckin’… _shit, Cas_ …holy…yeah, friggin’ awake now. Jesus. Ever heard of an alarm?” he laughed, his hips pressing up into Castiel’s mouth and his fingers tugging on his hair. 

“What, you don’t like your wake up call?” Castiel teased, pulling his underwear further down until it was all the way off and nipping at the inside of his thigh. 

“No no no, it’s…ah…” Dean mumbled as Castiel swallowed him down again, “s’good. _God_ so good.” 

Castiel hummed and kept up his slow teasing, right up until Dean started tugging harder on his hair and breathing heavier. When he noticed the building tension in his body Castiel sank a little lower, only choking just a little bit when Dean came down his throat. Castiel swallowed and worked him through it, popping off only when Dean’s fingers relaxed in his hair. 

“Good morning,” Castiel mumbled, kissing Dean’s heaving chest and mouthing at his collarbone. 

“You know it’s like, ungodly early right now right?” Dean laughed, his voice a little breathless. 

Castiel just shrugged. “Fine. Next time I won’t wake you up with a blowjob. Note taken.” 

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, wrapping an arm around his waist and flipping Castiel over onto his back, pressing their lips together in the process. Castiel smiled against his lips and kissed back, running his hands down Dean’s warm back. 

“You can go back to sleep if you like.” 

“Not a chance. I figure I got two hours to spend here before you gotta go shower, might as well not waste them by sleeping.” 

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “And how do you intend to spend them?” 

“Not sure yet. I’ll come up with something.” With that he pulled away and sat up, gesturing with his hands for Castiel to move. “Roll over.” 

Castiel wanted to question him, but he decided to just go with it. He rolled onto his stomach and shoved his hands under the pillow, resting his cheek on the warm sheets. Slowly his eyes fell closed, followed by the feeling of Dean’s lips between his shoulder blades. He shivered. 

“Feeling better this morning?” he said quietly, his thumbs kneading the tense muscles of Castiel’s back while his lips travelled up his spine. 

“Marginally. I apologize for freaking out.” 

“I’ve done worse, trust me. Thought you did pretty good, all things considered.” 

“I wondered where you learned that little therapy,” Castiel hummed, his body feeling warm and heavy under Dean’s touches. 

He laughed quietly against Castiel’s skin. “Yeah. Broken a few bottles in my day. Only the shitty stuff Dad brought home, though.” 

“You stole your dad’s drinks?” Castiel said, mildly amused and mostly surprised. From what he’d heard about Dean’s father, that couldn’t have been wise. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, unconcerned. “Only when he brought it back. He’d come back drunk, and whatever. But I hated it when he brought it home with him, when he drank in front of Sammy. At some point I gave up, but I kept it up for a while.” 

“You were a brave kid.” 

“I was a _stupid_ kid.” 

Silence fell for a few seconds. Castiel wanted to correct him, tell him how wrong he was, but he knew Dean wouldn’t listen to him. So he bit his tongue. 

Dean continued to massage the muscles of his back and shoulders, every once in a while stopping to leave hickeys on his skin. Part of Castiel wanted to squirm out from under him, to roll over and get his share of touches, but Dean seemed happy with this. 

“So who was that girl yesterday?” Dean asked, obviously trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. 

“Jealous?” Castiel hummed, smirking against the pillow. 

“No,” Dean grumbled, biting his shoulder a little harder. “She was staring at you like a piece of meat though.” 

“I am a very eligible bachelor.” 

Dean chuckled quietly. “Uh huh. What’s the story?” 

He didn’t really feel like telling this story right now, because he really wanted to be thinking about Dean’s hands on his hips instead of some silly high school drama that happened ages ago. But he knew Dean wasn’t going to let it go. 

“There isn’t much of one. We used to be friends. Close friends, I thought. But when I told her I was going to UCLA for photography her reaction was…not super positive.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“She reacted in the same way my mother did,” he sighed. “Said that I was wasting my life on something pointless. And then told me she was in love with me.” 

Dean froze. “Shit, dude.” 

“My reaction exactly,” Castiel laughed. In hindsight, he maybe shouldn’t have been surprised. Gabriel certainly hadn’t been. But his 18-year-old self had _definitely_ not seen it coming. He just didn’t see Hannah in that way, had never even considered it. 

“And you didn’t…?” 

“No, I didn’t. Until very recently, I didn’t really care about that kind of thing. Relationships were sort of abstractly interesting, but not something that I wanted for myself.” His voice softened as everything sort of sunk in, and he was reminded once again why he no longer felt that way. “Until somebody changed my mind.” 

Dean paused again, and it was so quiet Castiel could heard how Dean was holding his breath. Very slowly Dean rolled him over until they were face to face, his green eyes meeting Castiel’s. They were swirling with different emotions, but he didn’t have time to analyze them before Dean was speaking. 

“Do you trust me?” 

Castiel raised an eyebrow, touching his palm to Dean’s cheek. “Yes?” 

Dean rolled off the bed and strolled over to his duffel bag, looking all delicious and irresistible with no clothes on. He grabbed something small from inside, and…that was lube. That was definitely lube. 

“Dean…” Castiel said, only managing that much before Dean was laying out on top of him and kissing him quiet. Dean’s hand came up to cup his cheek, and he let himself be distracted for a moment. 

“M’ not talking about sex, but I want to try something.” 

Once upon a time Castiel might have hesitated, but all of this stuff was getting less nerve-wracking and more exciting. 

“Okay, but I’m not ready for…” 

Dean smiled and kissed him again. “I know. Don’t worry. Just tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Castiel nodded, and a second later Dean was kissing his way down Castiel’s chest and stomach. When he got to the hem of his underwear he slid it off without pausing, nipping at his hipbones and dragging a happy sigh out of Castiel’s chest. He was ready for the feeling of Dean’s mouth around his cock, though that didn’t lessen the pleasure of it. He still moaned quietly, and Dean still hummed in approval. 

It was the slick finger circling his entrance that Castiel wasn’t prepared for. Dean was slow, giving Castiel plenty of time to protest if he wanted to, but the tension in his body wasn’t the bad kind. He sort of _wanted_ this, wanted to know what it would feel like. He was nervous, sure, but it was anticipation that was coursing through his veins. 

Dean swallowed him down right to the base while pressing a finger into him at the same time, and Castiel was surprised to find that it didn’t burn or hurt like he’d expected it to at first. It just felt _good_. And it only took a few seconds of Dean working his mouth and his finger in time before Castiel was sure that their neighbors were hearing his moans. Still it just seemed to egg Dean on, and before he knew it Dean was adding a second finger and the stretch felt even better this time. 

_“Fuck Dean,”_ Castiel whimpered, his back arching and his fingers pulling on Dean’s hair. Dean picked up his movements, sliding his fingers in and out and bobbing his head as Castiel’s breathing got more and more ragged. His hips moved of their out accord, pushing down on Dean's fingers and pushing up into his mouth. When he came he was sure that this was, without a doubt, the best orgasm he’d ever had in his life. He sighed Dean’s name as heat flooded his body, and he wasn’t even ashamed to admit that his toes curled. 

Dean cleaned up after swallowing him down, while Castiel laid on the bed in a blissed out little puddle. When he was satisfied Dean wrapped Castiel up in his arms and pulled the big comforter over them both, nestling down in the pillows and closing his eyes. 

“You've been holding out on me," he sighed, kissing underneath Dean's jaw. 

He just grinned in response, dropping a kiss on Castiel’s forehead. “We got like, thirty minutes ’til you gotta go shower. Let’s stay here.” 

“And cuddle?” Castiel teased, lifting his face away from Dean’s chest to look at his face. He smiled, but his eyes stayed closed and he didn’t respond. “If anyone really knew what a cuddle-monster you are, Dean Winchester…” 

Dean chuckled and hooked his leg over Castiel’s hip, rolling partially on top of him. Castiel complained, but he didn’t try _that_ hard to get away. 

“Don’t tell anyone or I’ll have to kill you.” 

“But then who will you cuddle with?” 

“…shut up.” 

***

Castiel’s hair was still wet and he was barely dressed when Gabe came to get him. At the age of 21 Castiel had assumed that his brother would trust him to dress himself, but that was apparently not the case. Instead Gabriel dragged him away, telling Dean to be ready at noon and waiting in the lobby for the limo. Apparently the entire wedding party had limos to take them out to the venue and back, which wasn’t entirely surprising considering the fact that there was going to be an open bar at the reception. 

Mostly Castiel was annoyed, because he’d _really_ been looking forward to appreciating Dean in his suit before leaving the hotel. 

Gabe brought him to a room that was not his suite, probably because Kali was in their room. The whole thing was a blur, and by the end of it Castiel was outfitted with a perfectly tailored suit, lots of hair gel to tame his bedhead and smooth it back, and even a pair of contacts. They felt uncomfortable on his eyeballs, and he felt like he was blinking too much, but it was nice not to have to adjust his glasses all the time. 

The whole time Castiel wondered where Luke and Michael were, as well as his mother, and whether or not their absence had anything to do with the night before. He didn't ask, though, and soon enough they were rushed out the door and into a limo and Castiel had more important things to think about. 

The venue was a beautiful country club outside of the city, and the ceremony was held right on the edge of a small man-made lake. Castiel was sure to smile and stand where he was supposed to and not even Luke made a nasty comment toward him. Maybe because of Gabriel, and maybe because they were all afraid of Kali’s wrath. He wasn’t sure which. 

Castiel didn’t see Dean before the ceremony started, but he figured he was just sitting in the audience. He was itching with anticipation to see him, but he could be patient right now. He walked down the aisle with Kali’s younger sister, his arm held out like a proper gentleman. Gabe winked at him in approval. And when he reached the altar and turned to stand at Gabriel’s side, the first thing he did was scan the crowd for a familiar face. 

Two rows back, on the right hand side, almost directly in front of him, was Dean. Castiel could only barely see what he was wearing, but it was the expression on his face that really caught his attention. Dean’s green eyes were wide, his lips barely parted, and he was leaning forward in his seat like he wanted to stand up. He looked completely in awe, and Castiel was having a hard time believing that that look was being directed at _him._ That was the way that people looked at Dean, that was definitely how Castiel looked at Dean, but that expression didn’t belong on Dean’s face. 

Castiel tried to smile, but only the very corner of his lips twitched. Dean did the same, a brief flash of smile just at the side of his mouth before his face fell serious again. 

Dean only looked away when Kali started walking down the aisle, and the entire crowd turned to watch her. Even then he only looked for a second before his eyes found Castiel again. It made his cheeks burn. 

The ceremony itself was beautiful. More traditional than Castiel had expected, but beautiful. Gabriel swept his wife up into a dramatic kiss as soon as it was over, and Castiel swore he’d never seen his brother that happy. 

After the ceremony there were lots of hugs and tears and Castiel quickly congratulated his brother before leaving him in the hands of the other guests. He wove through the crowd in search of Dean, and he wasn’t disappointed when he found him. 

His boyfriend swept him up in his arms and kissed him, coming dangerously close to lifting his feet off the ground. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a smile, adjusting his slightly crooked tie. 

“Hi,” Dean said breathlessly, not loosening his grip. “Shit, Cas.” 

Castiel tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. 

“I don’t know how to talk to you like this.”

“Like what?” Castiel asked. 

“When you’re all…” Dean nodded at his outfit, his eyes flicking up to his hair and down to his pocket square. “I mean, fuck. Where’re your glasses?” 

“Gabe gave me contacts,” Castiel said, scrunching up his nose. “Is it that bad?” 

“Bad?” Dean laughed, kissing him again. That one was definitely inappropriate for the middle of a wedding, but Castiel certainly didn’t _mind_ Dean’s tongue in his mouth. “Nah, man. You look friggin’ _good_. Now I’m gonna have to keep my hands on you all night.” 

“Oh, perfect. That will certainly piss off my mother. She hates PDA.” 

“This kind of PDA?” Dean asked with a flirty grin, dropping his hands to Castiel’s ass and pulling him closer. “Or this kind?” he kissed him again, even more inappropriate than the previous one. 

“Mmm,” Castiel hummed, trying not to laugh. “Preferably both. At the same time.” 

“Greedy,” Dean laughed, repeating both of his examples. Castiel laughed against his lips. 

“Come on, let’s go find our seats before Kali kills us.” 

They did find their seats, but they didn’t stay at them for very long. Dean was much more interested in the spread of food and the open bar. The both took full advantage. 

Dean kept up his promise of PDA, which was actually pretty entertaining. Castiel wasn’t familiar with this version of Dean, the one that gave out affectionate, easy touches like they were nothing. Apparently being around a bunch of strangers put him at ease. Kali didn’t even seem annoyed, but that was probably the post-wedding adrenaline. Gabriel just winked at him. 

The toast he gave was far from perfect, but Gabriel seemed thankful for it. His brother gave him a hug and a pat on the back, and the mumbled, “thanks, little bro” sounded a little teary. Not that Castiel would ever say that out loud. 

Drinks flowed and food flowed and Castiel even forgot for a little while that he was surrounded by people that, generally, he harbored an enormous amount of dislike for. But none of it really mattered because he got to watch Gabe’s first dance with his wife and he got to sneak off and make out in the Photo Booth with his well-dressed boyfriend, he got to take advantage of the expensive scotch that he didn’t have to pay for, and he even had a first dance of his own. 

He absolutely couldn’t even fathom what song had been playing. He wasn’t even sure if it had been Dean that dragged him out to the dance floor or the other way around. It didn’t matter. He leaned his cheek up against Dean’s chest and wrapped his arms around his waist, letting the slightly-less-drunk Dean lead him around. 

“Y’got any other siblings with weddings comin’ up? I could do this again,” Dean said into his ear, kissing up his neck as they swayed. 

“Luci,” Castiel snorted, imagining his assbutt of a brother getting married to Lilith. She was frigid, like his mother, so they were probably perfect for each other. “He won’t invite me though.” 

“Let’s crash it,” Dean grinned. 

“Spectacular idea. I’ll be Smith. I’ll call you…also Smith. No relation.” 

“Secret aliases?” 

“Yes. I suspect you’ll need a mustache.” 

Dean laughed, tilting Castiel’s chin up for a kiss as the song ended. “You’re way drunker n’me, dude,” he said, tossing an arm over Castiel’s shoulders and leading him back towards their seats. 

“Catch up then,” Castiel sighed, flopping down in his chair and grabbing Dean’s face with both hands. Dean just laughed again and kissed back for a few seconds before pulling away, a cocky grin on his face.  “And get me some cake.” 

“God you’re demanding.” 

Dean wandered away, and Castiel belatedly wondered if anyone had noticed how much cake they had eaten already. Was there a quota? There was a ton of people at the wedding already, so there was plenty of cake anyway, but maybe someone had noticed. If it was all you could drink, it was probably all you could eat with regards to cake, too. Maybe—

“Castiel.” 

He dragged himself out of his thoughts and glanced up, somehow unsurprised at the icy glare on his mother’s face. 

“Mother dearest. How _good_ of you to acknowledge me.” 

Her glare, somehow, got colder. 

“You will stop this behavior. I have been patient with you and your whims, but you will receive no sympathy from me any longer.” 

Castiel actually laughed out loud. 

“Sympathy? Is that what you’ve given me?”

“Do you think I watch my youngest son throw his life away with apathy?” She said, placing a hand over the place where her heart _should_ have been. Castiel knew she was just playing a part. 

“I don’t think you care about me, or my life,” Castiel said calmly, mimicking the position of her hand on his own chest. “You care about the Novak reputation, about me having a pristine career like your other sons, so you can brag about how _perfect_ we all are. Sorry, Mother, not gonna happen.” 

Some piece of her control seemed to snap, Castiel could practically see it in her eyes. 

“You were an embarrassment last night, with your little tantrum,” she snapped. “You’ve been an embarrassment today. I will not tolerate it any longer.” 

He rolled his eyes.

“You bring that _mechanic_ here, the two of you and your disgusting behavior towards one another, and you act like you aren’t wasting _someone_ ’ _s_ money at that school, even if it isn’t mine.” 

“Are we that disgusting to you, Mother? For being affectionate? Are we any worse than your darling Lucifer?” he asked, gesturing at where Lucifer and Lilith were hanging all over each other on the dance floor. 

“This doesn’t concern your brother,” she said cooly, brushing off his comment like it was nothing. “I am concerned with _your_ well-being.” 

“I _am_ well,” Castiel groaned, rubbing his eyes. “At UCLA, working on my photography, being with my friends, being with Dean. I am _happy_ , Mother, can’t you see that?” 

He can hear the desperation in his own voice, and he hates it. God he hates it. He doesn’t want to want her approval, he doesn’t want to care about her and her stupid opinion. But he does. 

She looks at him sympathetically, touching a soft hand to his cheek. It is, without a doubt, the most motherly gesture he has ever received from her. And it fucking sucks, because it isn’t real. 

“You aren’t happy, Castiel. You are lost, and confused, and better than what you are doing. All of it is beneath you,” she paused, searching his face. “Dean Winchester is beneath you.” 

Perfect. Just perfect. 

“No. He isn’t” 

With that Castiel strolled away, too exhausted to deal with her anymore. It was resignation that wracked his bones, but he didn’t feel like dealing with that right now. 

He found Dean by the cake table, placing a hesitant hand on his arm before speaking. 

“Can we go home?” 

Dean paused and gave him a look, scanning his face before setting down the cake knife next to the two glasses of scotch he must have gotten already. 

“If you mean LA, I can’t get you home right now. Gimme a couple of hours to sober up and you got it. If you mean the hotel, I’ll go find us a limo right now.” He cupped the side of Castiel’s face while he spoke, his green eyes searching. “You okay?” 

Castiel didn’t answer. Instead he picked up both the glasses of scotch, tossing them back one right after the other. Dean raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “Just the hotel. M’going to say goodbye to Gabriel.” 

***

Those last two drinks hit him right as they got back to their hotel. Which was nice, because he could shove all of the family shit out of his mind again and also the back of the limo did _not_ give him _nearly_ enough room to do all the things he wanted to do to Dean. It took a string of long, heated, drawn out kisses from his very convincing boyfriend to make Castiel promise to leave his clothes on until they at least got upstairs, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. 

_Very convincing and very attractive in a damn suit. Mm._

He must have said something funny because Dean was laughing as they stumbled into their room, Castiel’s hands doing their best to get underneath his stiff shirt. Dean’s arms wrapped around his waist and held him tight, which may or may not have had something to do with his body’s desire to tip over at any moment. His lips found the corner of Dean’s jaw and he stayed there, mouthing at the slight stubble and kissing down his neck. He heard Dean chuckle and felt his body start to move as Dean walked them backwards towards the obnoxiously huge bed. 

“Dean,” he said seriously, pulling back to stare into his eyes. Dean was grinning, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as Castiel stared. 

“Yeah, Cas?”

Dean had such pretty eyes. And a pretty nose. And nice hair. And he smelled nice, too. And his tongue was very distracting. And what was he going to say? The suit. Right. 

It must have taken these thoughts longer than he’d thought to make their way through his brain because Dean was laughing at him again. 

“You gonna say somethin’ or are you just gonna stare?”

Castiel glared at him, leaning forward and biting this tip of his nose lightly before speaking. 

“Dean, you look very good in that suit. And I think we should take it off of you.”

“Alright, Casanova,” Dean laughed. “Swear there was somethin’ in that drink. How ‘bout we work on you first?”

“I should take my contacts out,” Castiel agreed, nodding and stepping away from Dean. It took some focus to get into the bathroom without stumbling, but he managed fairly well. Getting his contacts out wasn’t easy, but they were disposable anyway so he didn’t really bother trying to save them. He had more at home. He put his glasses on after, because missing one moment of Dean in a suit would’ve been a travesty. 

Dean was in the process of changing when Castiel walked back into the bedroom, his suit jacket  hanging back up and his tie discarded somewhere. The top couple buttons of his shirt were undone too, and the whole thing was just unfairly appealing. Dean smiled at him when he spotted Castiel standing in the doorway of the bathroom, walking over and sliding the tailored jacket off of his shoulders. Castiel tilted his head and just watched while Dean undressed him, not objecting when Dean pulled off his blue tie and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, or when he unbuttoned his slacks and led Castiel forward to step out of them. 

Castiel definitely could have undressed himself, but it was sort of calming to let Dean do it, so he did. Once he was undressed Dean handed him a soft t-shirt to pull on and his old sweats, which felt wonderfully comfortable against his skin. 

Dean didn’t say anything when he was done, just quietly sat at the head of the bed and pulled Castiel onto his lap. Castiel let himself be led around, straddling Dean’s hips and sitting back so there was a couple inches of space between them. He picked at the buttons of Dean’s shirt, undoing them one by one and untucking the shirt until his hands could reach Dean’s bare chest. Dean’s fingers were pushing through his hair while he worked, tugging in different directions. He could feel the carefully sculpted style that Gabe had forced him into getting messed up, but he didn’t care. 

It felt like they were putting each other back together.

Castiel planted his hands on Dean’s stomach, sliding them up his chest and over his shoulders slowly, taking the shirt off as he went. His eyes flicked up to meet Dean’s, catching a flash of something sort of like relief in them. 

“There he is,” he said quietly, almost to himself, tugging his hands through Castiel’s hair a couple more times before dropping them down to his hips. They didn’t squeeze or pull, his thumbs just rubbing gentle circles into his hipbones. 

Castiel tilted his head and frowned just slightly, not understanding what Dean was trying to say. 

“You look like yourself again.”

_Oh._

“Did you just fuck up my hair?” Castiel glared at him, tracing a mark just underneath his collarbone that Castiel must have left that morning. 

“Absolutely,” Dean grinned, but it was softer than usual. 

“And not a single joke about how bad it looks?”

“It looks better this way,” Dean said quietly, raising a hand to push it through Castiel’s hair one more time. “By the way, I change my mind.”

Castiel just hummed, too focused on the freckles on Dean’s chest to pay much attention. Counting them was not as easy after a few drinks. They kept blurring together and he kept forgetting which ones he’d already counted. 

“Don’t get me wrong. You looked hot as fuck today. But you shouldn’t wear contacts.”

“And why is that?”

“The glasses…” Dean hesitated and Castiel stayed focused on his chest, not wanting to break the moment. “Dunno. This is you. My Castiel.”

Castiel forgot how to breathe, immediately losing track of his counting and raising his gaze slowly to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean looked nervous, like he was starting to regret having said that out loud. 

He wanted to say something, to address whatever was hanging between them right now, but Castiel knew better than that, even in his mildly inebriated state. This was already a lot of words for Dean. He knew that. So instead of responding he leaned forward, molding their mouths together and trying to speak to Dean in a way that he would understand. 

And if the sharp inhale or the tight grip of his hand on the back of Castiel’s neck were anything to go by, Dean definitely understood. 

At some point Dean’s slacks came off and they slid under the comforter. Heavy breaths, quiet moans, and whispered words passed between them, their bodies slotted together and their hands gripping and wandering. Castiel’s body was searching, but not for a release. Even though his skin was on fire and his fingers were numb, that wasn’t what he wanted. 

He wanted Dean, every single inch of him. Nothing else. 

“Dean,” he murmured pulling back and blinking slowly. “We should have sex tonight.”

There was a beat of silence and then Dean was grinning at him, and Castiel just scowled back because Dean was supposed to be getting _seduced_ , not _laughing._

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” he said, just getting a head tilt in response from Castiel. “Angel, you told me _this morning_ that you weren’t ready. And now you changed your mind?” 

“Yes,” he said confidently, grabbing both of Dean’s hands with his own and moving them until they were cupping his butt. Dean raised his eyebrows and stifled a smile, but he didn’t protest. “That was this morning.” 

“And what was so different about this morning?” 

“This morning I didn’t know how good you looked in a suit. And I didn’t know how _good_ your fingers would feel,” Castiel said, sliding closer and blinking heavy eyelids. “And now I can only imagine what it would feel like to have your—”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, pulling back a little bit. “You’re killing me.”

Castiel pulled up short, a little annoyed at Dean for stopping him when he was feeling so brave. “Why?”

“Because we can’t,” he sighed, pulling Castiel closer again and resting their foreheads together. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?” Castiel asked, feeling a bit like a petulant child, letting his heavy eyelids fall closed for just a second. 

“As much as I want to, because I friggin’ want to, so bad, I don’t want it to be like this. ‘Cause you’re still really drunk, and I’m pretty drunk, and you’re kinda falling asleep.”

He said the last part with a smile, and Castiel squinted his eyes and glared at him. 

“Am not,” he grumbled, even as his eyes tried valiantly to droop closed again. 

“Kinda falling asleep,” Dean laughed quietly, dropping a soft kiss on his lips. 

“Kinda falling asleep,” Castiel admitted, begrudgingly. 

_Maybe he was right._  

“But I want to,” Castiel mumbled, shifting his position and nuzzling into Dean’s neck. Dean hummed, one hand stroking through Castiel’s hair and the other rubbing up and down his spine. 

“If you still want to in the morning, or in two mornings, or in five mornings, or in twenty-seven mornings, you let me know. Sound good?” Dean murmured, and Castiel mumbled some kind of acknowledgement. “Now sleep, angel.”

And he did, dropping off into sleep before he could even say goodnight. 

Because maybe this, just being pressed against him, breathing in the smell of him, was what Castiel needed. Maybe having all of Dean had nothing to do with sex at all. Maybe it was just this. 


End file.
